Discovering Freedom
by Restrained.Freedom
Summary: Post Inheritance:  Discovering Freedom is never simple, especially for the son of Morzan and his dragon. This is my own attempt to repair the ending... at least as far as Murtagh and Thorn are concerned...  and Nasuada too, of course... & hints of E&A.
1. The True Meaning of Freedom

**11-12-11 I re-edited to include some thoughts on Eragon and Nasuada that should have been there. **

**This is another "Inheritance" fix-fic. I want to show my appreciation to all of you who have strived to repair the depressing ending of the Inheritance Cycle's long awaited Book Four. And I recognize the loss of the E&A fans, but let's face it. They are immortal and have plenty of time to smarten up and create a happy ending. But Nasuada doesn't have that luxury, and I find CP's handling of Murtagh's fate to be a dismal failure. Apart from a half hearted offer of a job by his brother, little attempt is made to make M&T feel welcome to stay. They are almost shunted off with a wave and a 'Good riddance.' I was inconsolable. More than anything else, I wanted to see the breach between the brothers mended. So this is my goal. However, I didn't want to make Nasuada wait... let's face facts, we mortals only live so long...**

**Well, anyhow... This is the first installment of what I hope is a believable resolution to correct Book Four.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The True Meaning of Freedom<strong>

The pleasant hum of his dragon vibrated beneath him, and wind cool and refreshing washed over his form as they glided ever northward. Serenity surrounded him, inspired by the sunlight playing on the top of the clouds. Wild tendrils of adventure and freedom gently wrapped themselves around him. And the rider gripped tightly to them like a lifeline.

In reality it was a lifeline, and the rider had to cling to it. It was keeping his mind on the good things. It was keeping him from sinking into the depth of despair that he knew existed just below the surface. He would hang on to this thread in hope, and bury everything else beneath the mask that encased his heart, protecting both himself and his dragon from the misery lurking at his inner core. The churning ugly untouchable darkness was kept imprisoned, so it would not taint his innocent partner. He locked it away, refusing to look at it, or feel it, lest Thorn have to suffer for his rider's vandr-wyrda. So instead, Murtagh drank in the feel of freedom, reveling in his dragon's happiness, and he tried to ignore the distant painful throbbing concealed within him. This was how he would survive. This was how he would stay sane... for Thorn...

Aside from his ruby companion, this newfound ability to flee and explore was the only positive thing in his life, the only thing he had left to hold on to. It was the door to his future, the opportunity for excitement and discovery, a reprieve from the certain doom, heartache, and the very likely execution that he would have faced had he stayed. Two faces flashed before his eyes, his half brother looking dejected, and a beautiful, sad Nasuada. He had wanted to stay, ached to stay. And they had wanted him to stay... but they had been the only ones, and staying would have only hurt them in the end. No... This was his only available path, and he forced his focus on that end. This was going to be their time... his and Thorn's.

A break in the blanketing clouds, allowed them a glimpse of the lush terrain that rolled beneath them. Intrigued, the pair silently descended to better survey the new territory. Rocky patches began to show, breaking through the forested mounds, and highlighting their progression deeper into the Spine Mountains. At the impressive sight, Murtagh drew a breath, and enjoyed a brief moment of contentment. It was stunningly beautiful, but that wasn't the reason they had chosen this route. They needed to bypass the elven lands, and this was the best direction for that purpose.

A ribbon of a river wound beneath them and a gentle nudge of curiosity pressed against the rider's mind in an unspoken question.

_I think that is the Anora,_ Murtagh replied mentally. Only then did he realize just how close he was to the former village of Carvahall, his brother's childhood home.

A quick wave of desperate longing swept over him as he swallowed the bitter knowledge that his mother had sacrificed her elder son to preserve the life of the younger. What had that little boy done wrong to be so easily cast aside?... But no. She had returned to him. And he knew she had loved him no matter what lies the cursed king had woven around the event. She hadn't meant to die upon her return, and leave him alone in the world. It was just ill-fate. Vandr-wyrda, there was that word again. And once more he forced off all these negative images, casting them into the dark vault where he kept all the things he was not yet prepared to deal with. The brief emotional struggle had happened, and was over in a breath, for Murtagh was determined not to let his darkness overcome him... for Thorn's sake. He would be strong for him...

When the edge of the bay appeared on the northern horizon, it provided a welcome distraction from the previous reflection. Murtagh let himself smile, mentally suggesting to Thorn that he find a nice spot to rest for the night on the shoreline. The growl that the rider received in return was a clear indication of the dragon's growing hunger. There would definitely be some fishing tonight.

By the time they reached the banks, the sun had dipped down far enough that its rays struck below the clouds in a dazzling display of pinks, reds, oranges and yellows on a background of indigo. The body of water was huge, and the tidal motion created a rippled mirror reflection of the sky. What an incredible sight it was.

_Murtagh... I like this freedom._

The rider tried to laugh but the overwhelming emotion rather choked him.

_I knew you would, my friend... I knew you would._

* * *

><p>Full stomachs certainly enhanced the pleasure of the campsite. Night sounds caressed the air with an unplanned lullaby, and it was all the rider could do to keep his eyes open. Drowsiness felt good to the rider and his mind drifted to the possible sights and adventures that the pair might encounter in the unexplored northern lands.<p>

_After all, who else had ever been so far north?... Galbatorix. _That thought shook Murtagh awake with a scowl...

_Galbatorix had lost his dragon in the north and then gone mad, wandering those wastelands for - what was it - years?_ And a voice in the back of his head whispered...

'And you are following in his footsteps like a good little student...'

A shiver coursed through the rider at the chilling thought, and he might have given the thought more consideration, if his dragon hadn't chosen that moment to ask him an unexpected question.

_Murtagh... are you happy?_

_As happy as I have any right to be..._

_What kind of answer is that?_

_An honest one..._

Silence stretched on as the gentle sounds played in the breeze, making him drowsy again. Once again the faces appeared, and memories surfaced briefly... camping, laughing, sparing with his brother... the feel of his arms enfolding her trembling form... the hiss and smell of burning flesh... It was almost a physical blow. And in a swift mental motion, learned from months of practiced attempts of evading the king's mental assaults, Murtagh shoved those memories in the vault within, praying they would stay there, and stop haunting his moments of peace. He was trying to banish them, he realized with a stab of regret that twisted deep. And he truly hoped Thorn wouldn't notice, but of course he did.

_Murtagh... where are we going?_

_North... somewhere where we can be safe... where no one will hate us... _

_Alone..._

The rider frowned. What choice did they have? If they wanted to remain free, they had to run. That was one of the truths of his existence. The dragon sighed, well aware of his chosen one's thoughts.

_How funny it is... that the freedom we so eagerly sought would force us to leave the things that we care so dearly about._

_WHAT?_

Thorn blinked at his rider's excitable reaction to his mental pondering. He really hadn't expected that, and hurried to further explain his observations.

_It is just strange that even this freedom finds us still bound, only in another way._

_At least it's a better way... better than it was before._

_Very true._

For some reason now Murtagh's restless thoughts plagued him sufficiently that he didn't think he would be able to sleep at all now. He wasn't even sure if it was his own emotions struggling to grasp the irony of their situation, or if he was feeling the effects of his dragon's confusion.

Just why was he running?... Wasn't that what you had to do when you broke free from captivity?... Wasn't that what he did before?... What possible other option could there be?... Run... Escape... Find safety... and then what?

For some reason the answer eluded his tired, groping mind. Safety wasn't a goal or a prize. But with the never ending threat of the king's punishments, fear had made the notion of safety utterly prevalent in the rider's psyche. But the king was no longer a threat... Perhaps it was time to re-evaluate his fears.

Once again the images appeared. They defied his attempts to drive them back... but this time he swallowed his sorrow, and let them remain for a bit. There was a sort of comfort in their imagined presence, and it slowly dawned on him just what it was that he feared most... losing them, their friendship... and he had chosen this path. He had chosen to run, and in doing so, his greatest fears were being realized. He could almost see Nasuada smile at his revelation.

In his mind there was a stifling silence, and it stretched out so long that Murtagh started to suspect that his dragon had fallen asleep.

_If safety isn't the objective of our freedom... then what is? _he thought to himself, and he felt rather than saw Thorn eye turn to gaze at him.

"Thorn," came the whispered words of the rider. "What do you want to do?"

And the dragon smiled as he considered the question.

* * *

><p>The following morning, the ruby pair glided high above the mountains, hidden in the clouds. The warmer air lifted beneath the dragon's sturdy wings, and their southerly direction lifted their spirits.<p>

Following the edge of the Spine Mountains would keep their presence hidden, for few ventured into that range. And would have to do most of their traveling at night. But what mattered most was that they were no longer running. Instead their new path was leading them home, and both dragon and rider were filled with a sense of peace that they had not previously known...

Suddenly freedom had taken on a whole new meaning.

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><p><strong> Posted: 11-11-11 {hmm... that is interesting.} <strong>

**Extra bits added: 11-12-11**

**Of course they will finish their travels at night mostly, so as not to be seen... but that will all be explained in a future chapter... And I know there are a TON of errors, but I couldn't wait to post it... I'll polish it up in a day or two. In the mean time I hope you all enjoy. Review if you think this worthy...**


	2. Edoc'sil'baen

**A/Notes: Posted 11-13-2011 {But I will likely not be posting more than weekly in the future.}**

**I am not sure why these chapters are coming out so short, except for the fact that I am rushing. I know I said I wouldn't keep doing that, for I feel I lose quality when I do, but perhaps you all can forgive me that and I'll work at improving. XD**

**Chapter Two: Edoc'sil'baen**

There was something unmistakably eerie surrounding the secluded estate, especially at night. A creeping fog helped to hide its presence, nestled deep within a wooded hillside on the edge of Leona Lake. Dark stone accented with moss and ivy added to the camouflage effect. Even before the pair spotted it, Murtagh stiffened in the saddle at some visceral recognition.

_We're here Thorn,_ the rider informed his partner.

Thorn banked and circled, scanning the wildlands below with curiosity. He couldn't make out anything at first, but as he had felt his rider's physical response upon entering the general area, he refrained from questioning.

_Just circle and descend over there._ And the rider sent a mental image to guide the dragon's descent. He hadn't been anywhere near the place since he was four years old, but there were some things that you just didn't forget... the feel of crossing into the warded territory, and the view of approaching the castle from atop a dragon... both things the young Murtagh had experienced.

.  
><em>The boy was cautious, but fear had not yet cured him of curiosity. The tunnel he had discovered was one of his treasures. It was a safe place, an exciting place, and a place that eased his feelings of loss during the weeks and months spent apart from his mother, which was most of the time.<em>

_Still, he was smart enough not to spend too much time there, lest it be discovered, and taken from him. So far he had found several doors, one that opened into a food pantry, another that lead to his father's library, and he knew better than to enter into that room, and his greatest find so far... an exit leading outside. It was only a door to the castle's inner grounds, opening up behind the gardener's shack, but to the boy, it was a wonderful find. The walls to the inner grounds surrounded everything, being several stories high and stretching to form a large open square of meticulously kept acreage. Often, after completing his studies, Murtagh would be allowed to spend an hour or two within its confines, and finding this hidden path to the gardens gave the boy a taste of freedom. He could go outside without permission, should he choose, and the boy guarded this small treasure with all of his heart._

_This day, however, the boy had made a new discovery. One of the walls along the tunnel to the garden had a hole in it. He couldn't actually see the hole, it looked like a wall... but his hand went through. A shiver thrilled through the child as he touched the magic, for it could be nothing else. And in amazement, he boldly stepped through into the utter darkness. _

_It was black, and damp, and eerie... and exciting, and Murtagh used his hands to feel his way forward not even thinking of how absolutely lost he was in the lightless passage. All he could think of was the thrill of the new find..._

_It wasn't long till the tunnel opened up into a cavern... The boy was still in utter darkness, but he felt the walls fall off to either side, and the sound of his feet on the rocky flooring echoed, informing him that this space was huge._

"_Wow," he whispered in awe, eyes darting uselessly about. Oh, how he wished he could see his surrounding. He would have to return with a torch the next time, he thought, turning around to make his way back._

_A trembling growl vibrated, so low that the boy felt it more than he heard it. Hairs stood up on his neck, as he froze in terror. Somewhere to the left of him, the barest hint of a red glow lifted the darkness enough for him to make out the nearest wall and the hole that he had entered through. Even so, his shaking limbs refused to carry him the few yards to the safety of the black tunnel._

_He knew what it was... the rumbling growl, the scorched scent of burning brimstone, the fiery hot-glow radiating from the beast's nostrils... It was father's dragon._

_How often had his father threatened to feed him to the monster... Morzan called it his baby, but to the child it was even more of a monster than his father was... How often had he awakened with nightmares of the thing ripping him to bits... And here he was, in the beast's lair, with some inexplicable morbid-acceptance-of-his-fate forcing him to slowly turn and face the red monster for the first time in his young life. He was going to die... and never see his mama again. A warm tear rolled down his cheek._

_What had happened next the boy could only guess. There was a flash of bright red fire, and then darkness again as he was nearly crushed on all sides by what he later understood was the dragon's fore claw. _

_Panic rose even greater within him threatening his grip on his senses. A crack in between the talons allowed him to glimpse the land and the castle far below... They were high in the air. And before he could concoct images of being dropped to his death, a blanket of blessed unconsciousness draped over his mind, and he knew nothing else._

_._

_I see it Murtagh... I see the castle._

Shaking himself from his memories, the rider found they had indeed dropped lower, and yes, the outline of the estate was definable even if it was still well disguised. If one didn't know to look for it, there would be virtually no chance of finding it.

Murtagh scanned the south edge of the property for the entrance to the dragon hold, but over the years saplings, weeds, and shrubs had filled in the landing area.

_Little green twigs won't stop me!_ the dragon declared with exuberance. It was almost an instinctive nature that guided Thorn in an arching dive that ended with a perfect crashing-galloping-landing. Foliage and overgrowth were demolished under the crushing claws of the dragon in his haste to enter and explore the dragonhold that he knew to be there. It was as if he had done it a hundred times...

Murtagh gasped at the sudden crossing into the dragon entrance. It started as a gaping cave in the hillside that dipped downward, becoming a curving tunnel that led to the very cavern he had discovered as a child.

The darkness didn't bother Thorn at all, as he used scents to guide him to the lair. The rider on the other hand produced a magic sphere of red glow, and then sucked in a breath as he was finally able to glimpse firsthand the immensity of the room. It was mind boggling. A dragon the size of Glaedr could rest comfortably here, and Thorn hummed, delighted with the find.

_I feel like a hatchling again..._ the dragon mused, as he inspected his new dwelling.

Murtagh hopped down and was about to suggest that Thorn catch a meal in the lake before daylight, when a wave of magic swept over the pair, sending a tingling sensation throughout every fiber of their being. Both froze in uncertainty, and then started at the strong female mental voice that spoke.

_**You are not Morzan, or the red one... You are too small...**_

Completely stunned by the unexpected greeting, they glanced about for the source of the words. Before either could come up with an appropriate response, another wave assaulted them, and then focused on Murtagh. It remained on him for several more moments before dissipating.

_**I know you... You are the boy, Murtagh. You have grown. **_

Murtagh nodded mutely, completely astounded at the fact that he was being addressed by this invisible presence. He couldn't recall ever experiencing this phenomenon before, but internally there was an inexplicable familiarity to it that helped him tamp down the initial panic.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask in a shaky whispered voice.

_**I am not a who. I am the castle guardian... a sentient ward. Morzan spelled me into existence with dark magic to protect the grounds while he is away. He has been gone for quite some time now, as has his red one... Can you tell me if they still live?**_

Amazement gave way to curiosity, and as the rider began to converse with the guardian, it almost started feeling natural.

"Morzan was killed over fifteen years ago," he answered. "And you have been here all this time?... alone?" It was then that he was hit with another thought and had to ask yet another question.

"How is it that you continue to exist even after Morzan's death?"

_**I am no spellcaster young Murtagh. But this I know, before your mother breathed her last, she used another spell to bind my essence to another.**_

There was really no need to ask further, for the rider was certain that this guardian was now magically bound to his own life force. That was likely the reason they had been so readily accepted, rather than attacked as intruders.

_**It has been many seasons since you were taken from the ground by the king's messengers. I have literally lost track of the time for it mattered little. Only once the king visited on his stolen black dragon, but he seemed not to find what he was searching for and departed. Since that time, there has been no sign of anything, except for birds and rodents.**_

"Thank you guardian," Murtagh acknowledged grateful for the reassurance. He suddenly felt safer than he could remember... protected by a ward gifted him by his mother. Even if it was a product of Morzan's dark arts, it would provide both him and Thorn with comfort and security. And they would need that they endeavored to carve for themselves a place they could call their own.

The guardian chuckled silently at being named and thanked. Though it was impervious to the emotion of being lonely, the arrival of these young ones brought the sentient ward a pulsing feeling of contentment.

_**Your manners are lacking son of Morzan, **_the soundless voice teased. _**Are you planning to introduce me to your dragon?... or not?...**_

The dragon in question gave a gravelly laugh and thrummed happily at the guardian's taunt.

"Uh... sorry," Murtagh gave a half laugh, uncertain if she was serious or not. "Guardian, this is my dragon Thorn. He hatched for me less than a year ago. Thorn, this is the guardian."

_Greetings Guardian,_ the dragon said with a slight nod of his head. _You are a most unusual magical anomaly._

_**Well met Thorn FierceHeart, you do your clan credit. And welcome to Edoc'sil'baen.**_

**A/Note:**

**Edoc'sil'baen means unconquerable place.**


	3. Battling Ghosts

**A/Notes:**

**Listen all IC fans!... I have Great News; There is a Fabulous FanFic Fix to Paolini's "Book4"... MUCH better than mine... And I highly encourage everyone to check it out. It is called "The True Inheritance, or Eld Hljödhr abr Wyrda" by Adin the Conqueror. This fiction actually goes where CP was afraid to go. It is ten, no... a hundred times more satisfying than Paolini's mediocre vision.**

**And I ask you PLEASE... before I continue with this fic, to read the first chapter of the other story {found in my favorites} and let me know what you think. I believe it is much better than mine.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Battling Ghosts<strong>

Edoc'sil'baen. Hearing the name of the castle, "Unconquerable Place" had surprised Murtagh greatly, for he had only ever heard of it being called Morzan's castle. Between this intriguing news, and the discovery of the existence of the guardian, the rider felt at ease spending the next few days reacquainting himself with his old home.

The fortress was miniscule compared to the castle at Uru'baen, and yet the structure was sturdily built, secured solidly to the bedrock below. There were only three floors above ground and another one below. Though each level contained vaulted ceilings which took up the same space as any two regular floors combined. At each of the four corners of the castle, the the upper floor contained ceilings that rose to three levels high. Additionally, each corner was outfitted with a spacious balcony to accommodate a medium sized dragon. Larger dragons were likely required to use the underground cavern.

Thorn followed him around, walking along the outside of the large stone dwelling and peering through weathered windows, into the dust covered rooms.

"Everything seems so much smaller than I remember..." Murtagh remarked, eliciting a gravely chuckle from the dragon.

_You were just a hatchling back then. You are much bigger now. But if it makes you feel any better, you still look small to me._

Murtagh wanted to pretend to be cross, but he smirked and shook his head instead, and Thorn hummed in pleasure at having lightened his rider's mood.

And that was no small feat as they wandered through the home of the rider's youth, for the first day Murtagh had stumbled into his father's library and was practically assaulted by the nightmare he had endured as a three year old...

**.**

_His mother had departed just that morning, and the boy was inconsolable. Rocks lay in the pit of his stomach, and the stoic expression that so greatly resembled his father's seemed etched permanently into his face. He had even snuck into the upper levels of the castle in order to search the evening horizon, in hopes of spotting her distant entourage. As darkness descended, so did his hopes._

_'Someday, the boy would have a horse of his own and be able to ride off with her... or perhaps even a dragon...' he added before fear caused him to retract that idea. Dragon's meant nothing good, at least the one he was acquainted with meant no good. And little Murtagh was a pragmatic child. Dragons were to be avoided._

_"What are you doing in this wing young master?" scolded Irma, one of the chamber maids. Even though she sounded upset, the boy knew he was in no danger from her. If anything, she was the one person other than his mother that he felt relatively comfortable with... her and 'cook,' anyway. _

_Behind her scolding tone, the child sensed a playful invite, and for a moment he was freed from the sadness of his mother's disappearance. He even almost smiled. Turning from her, he sped down the hall, and ducked into the servant's stairwell, his pursuer -Irma- close on his tail. He flew down the steps taking two at a time with his young legs, a beaming smile of victory lighting his face. At the bottom, he dashed into the main second story hallway... and quickly slipped into his father's private library. It was dark, so he was certain that no one was within, and he cautiously peeked his head back out into the corridor to see if he had been discovered. _

_A groan sounded from behind him, and the sound of an overturned bottle of some sloshing liquid. The boy swung about, eyes wide with surprise, to the accompanying 'shingg' of a sword being drawn..._

_"Get out..." his father's voice hissed... Murtagh didn't need to be told twice. He was out of the room just that fast... but he hadn't been able to outrun the flying blade..._

_A flash of light and pain blasted his senses from behind... And he felt rather than saw himself fly from the impact into the opposite wall..._

_Tremors as fine as a tuning fork vibrated through him at the impact..._

_Then a distant female scream... was it Irma?... _

_After that... sweet oblivion. _

**.**

Murtagh's mood had dropped after reliving that experience, but with Thorn's encouragement, and spending the rest of the day in the dragon lair, the rider recovered his desire for exploration. The following morning saw him wandering the castle once more, discovering and rediscovering the truths that defined his past and help him forge a new future.

Every so often the nostalgic rider would pause, as another childhood memory played out before him, but compared to that first experience, these were usually fleeting, harmless, and obscure images; a lesson in writing his letters, eating a snack in the corner of the kitchen, the echo of heavy boots in the hallway, a boy being carried in his mother's arms -for once-...

**.**

_"Mama, wait... wanna see it." The soft brown eyes of his mother twinkled. It wasn't often she was there to see him to bed, but when she was, the boy wanted to relish every moment. It was unthinkable to sleep and waste even a single minute. Pointing determinedly, the three year old indicated the huge tapestry that hung in the main hall leading to his father's library. The woven depiction was in an area usually off limits to the child, but with his mother there, he was sure it would be permitted. _

_Little Murtagh flashed that smile that always seemed to get him whatever he wanted... from his mother anyway. And his delight grew as he heard his mother's loving chuckle in return. She hauled him up higher on her hip, and drew him to her, as she moved towards the incredible work of art. You had to stand back a bit to take it all in, it was so encompassing. One side was shrouded in dark images and colors, that gradually grew lighter and happier as it moved towards the opposite end._

_"Dragons... mama, but what is that?... and that?..."_

_The image woven into the fabric told a story of great battles between the races, and the glorious victory of the king. Among the figures immortalized were dragons of many colors, brave warriors in armor, carrying swords and flags, and a diverse assortment of other funny shaped people._

_His mother smoothed his hair back and spoke softly as she explained each in turn._

_"Those are dwarves... see the mountains? And the elves from the northern woods? The ones with the horns are the urgals, but don't worry, " she said noticing the boys widened eyes. "They live far away from here. And there is a werecat..."_

_"Werecats are real mama?" he asked her amazed. "Netti-cook says they're fae.. fa.. fable?"_

_Nodding his mother smothered a laugh, and pulled him into a close hug_

_"That's right baby... fable... but werecats _are_ real. I've seen one once."_

_The boy's face shined at the new knowledge, and swung his gaze back to the picture. There was one more thing he wanted to know about._

_"What are those big bat things?" _

_"Selena," the threatening voice of his father bellowed from down the hall, causing the boy to tremble instinctively. "If you are having trouble putting that brat down for the night, perhaps I should do it." _

_"No... no problem my husband, we are just now finished." Gripping her son protectively, Selena hurried the rest of the way to the boy's room. She was shaking, perhaps with fear or maybe anger, the boy wasn't sure. But that was the last time his mother had put him to bed._

**. **

Pulling his attention back to the colorful fabric, Murtagh noted that aside from dust collection, it had not dulled at all, or lost any of its beauty and allure. In fact, everything seemed to be in excellent order, no doubt due to the ingenious protection that guarded the entire estate... the Guardian.

_Too bad she doesn't dust..._ the dragon complained with a snort. Having found an open window, and deciding to draw in a scent, Thorn had only ended up breathing in cobwebs, and Murtagh couldn't help but grin.

The dragon's next words weren't so amusing.

_Well, you _do_ know that you are on your own doing the housekeeping in there._

Thorn was right. He couldn't take in servants, and the dragon simply wouldn't fit... Still there was magic to help. The rider shrugged, relatively unconcerned. There would be plenty of time for clean up later. For now he just wanted to explore.

Unexpectedly, for the conversation with Thorn had distracted his attention, Murtagh reached his mother's room, and stopped. Emotion gripped him, and the longing to be near her once again, or at least the hope of uncovering another memory pressed him forward. Steadying himself, the rider stepped across the threshold, his thirsty eyes drinking in every detail. Reverently, he wandered from one spot to another, touching things as he walked by, remembering, gazing, and memorizing.

He really couldn't remember ever being inside this room. And there was so much to take in... her things... so beautiful... so many intricate details. He almost missed it... nestled among a handful of jewelry in a polished wooded box with black velvet lining... a small ruby-crystal pendant.

The rider's hand was drawn to it instantly, and he hesitantly lifted it for closer examination. This he had seen before, and a moment later he recalled where he had seen it. It was worn by his mother when she had to go away.

Even now, years later, the crystal tingled with energy and magic, and Murtagh smiled with understanding. He had seen articles like this in Uru'baen, trinkets used by the Black Hand... A strange emotion caught in his chest as he recalled his mother had been the original Black Hand. This, if nothing else, confirmed his suspicions. This pendant was a tool, spelled for secret scrying.

Slowly a plan began to form... and Murtagh's face echoed a ghost of a smile.

* * *

><p>Just after sunset, the ruby dragon stretched his wings in purposeful flight. And like all his flights since re-entering Alagaesia, this trip was being made at night. Secrecy was important, at least until Murtagh was ready to make his presence known.<p>

During this last week, Thorn had enjoyed an abundance of night-play-fly time, and the youthful dragon had made good use of it, diving and fishing in the depths of the lake, hunting deer in the foothills of the Spine, and carrying his chosen rider on gliding moonlit flights.

This, however was the first time since arriving at Edoc'sil'baen that Thorn had flown with a destination in mind. And it was the first time he had aimed himself towards Uru'baen without a feeling of fear and anxiety. In fact the dragon approached with a sense of high expectation. His rider would surely be in a better mood once he had spoken to Nasuada, and once he had located his nestmate and his pretty blue dragon. Thorn was hoping to shed the dark scales of his past and forge a friendship with one of his own kind.

* * *

><p>Locating the wing of the castle that Nasuada was staying in hadn't been difficult, for it was heavily guarded. In spite of this, the rider easily evaded their detection. A complex combination of magic was all it took; an invisibility spell fused with another to slow his descent as he dropped from his dragon high above in the clouds. They had practiced this procedure all week, and had waited until the sky was adequately overcast.<p>

There was a clear determined objective at the core of the riders efforts. He wanted to see her, to be sure that she was alright, to find out if she was happy, and he wanted to know what was pulling him so strongly towards her... his destiny? his doom? Scowling, Murtagh shoved those thoughts into the secret vault. They were unrealistic. They were not productive. In fact, they were utterly distracting. Dragon laughter crept into the edge of his perception, eliciting an exasperated sigh.

_You're not helping Thorn..._

Murtagh was so distracted that he was literally surprised when he realized that he had arrived. And it wasn't until he was there on the balcony, standing at the threshold of her chamber, peering in through the paned glass doors, that a wave of insecurity washed over him, and drained him of his courage.

Suddenly, it was all he could do to just watch her; laying there peacefully, resting in a large mahogany canopy bed, the sheer white draping fastened at each corner, a plush quilted spread laid across her, the gentle rise and fall of her even breathing, a testament to the soundness of her sleep. She was beautiful. She was a queen. And the son of Morzan could _never_ be her king... He mentally scoffed at himself for even entertaining the thought... But even so, he wondered if perhaps he might mean 'something' to her. Afrer all, she was _-for some inexplicable reason-_ of vast importance to him.

Thorn's snort of annoyance was enough to tell his rider that his partner thought him a fool not to realize the reason for his attachment. And rather than argue or try to deny the dragon's assertions, Murtagh quietly exposed his gnawing fears to his confidant.

_If she is discovered even associating with me, it could cause her own people to doubt her... I don't think I can do this._

_Oh Murtagh, fearless Murtagh, powerful Murtagh... Please, not again... _The dragon mentally rolled his eyes at his rider's flimsy excuses._ I thought we decided to banish your fear, to hope for the best, and to reach for your heart's desire._

_Thorn... _the rider scolded, trying to hide his embarrassment._ What if I am being selfish? What if my desires hurt her? _

Unconvinced, the dragon countered.

_What if your absence pains her heart as much as it pains you?_

Silence fell between them once more. That was a thought to ponder. Could it even be possible that Nasuada would feel more than just a little pain at the red rider's departure? The rider leaned forward in contemplation, laying his forehead against the cool glass. The feeling was soothing, and Murtagh let his eyelids close as he took a settling breath.

Something gave way, resounding with an unexpected clack as the paned door unfastened, and it slowly swung inward, leaving Murtagh falling forward off-ballance.

Murtagh gasped at the same time as Nasuada did, both pairs of eyes opened wide, fluttering with surprise. Dark brown pools reflected panic before spotting the stormy grey of the rider's. Each was fixed firmly on the other. Frozen. Fear. Disbelief. Uncertainty. Raw emotions flashed between them. It seemed that there was no time to even form words... and yet it felt like time had slowed.

'Murtagh,' her mouth formed the word, but she didn't speak it aloud. _Was he really there? Was this another bout of torture? Another trick to expose her to the king? Was she even now strapped to the table of the prophets?_

He could see it in her eyes... flashing back to another time... the need to know for sure, whether it really him, or some elaborate dream...

For some reason the silent request settled his fears, and he swallowed back his hesitation. Gently, ever so gently, he pressed his mind against hers, the intimacy causing him to flinch internally. No one but Thorn ever got this close to him, at least not voluntarily. And he felt her essence relax and melt into his, recognizing him for who he was, and yet not rejecting him. That was something else that only ever happened with Thorn.

He could feel her presence clutching at his, or was he hanging on to her... He wasn't sure. But the expression of relief on her face revealed her feelings, even as her connection with him did; he could feel her panic, her uncertainty, her relief. So intent on banishing her fears, he didn't notice her throwing off the covers, and rushing to embrace him.

All of a sudden he was breathing again, and she was in his arms. He didn't quite know how that had happened, but neither did he desire to question it. Holding her felt as right as flying with Thorn, and he threw caution to the wind and let his connection with her deepen, reveling in amazement as he felt her doing the same.

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><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 11-18-2011**

**I would love to hear what you think about this story, so feel free to Review or PM me. **

**Also, I encourage you to check out "The True Inheritance, or Eld Hljödhr abr Wyrda" by Adin the Conqueror. You can find it in my 'Favorites.' I'd love to know how many of you think his work should be declared canon. XD**

**Adin actually takes CP's work to the exalted place it was meant to go. It is what I always imagined for the series... It is what I wanted to see happen... It is what I craved to have happen... And Damnit, it is what I now believe _really_ happened... "Hang CP... Long Live Adin the Conqueror!"**


	4. Recovering Hope

**SORRY FOR THE FALSE ALARM : ****I had to repost this chapter. I did make a couple tiny changes {"**EB**", I hope this helps.} I wanted to ask "**Kate**" where my language was too modern, so I can improve in that area. And lastly, I couldn't wait another couple weeks {for that is likely how long the next chapter will take} to beg "**the ghost who walks**" to make a profile so I can respond to the reviews and comments {all of which I enjoy.}**

**So, I ask my readers to forgive this RE-POST. **

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><p><strong>ANotes:**** I truly appreciate the patience of all of my readers and especially the ones who review, giving me feedback and encouragement. I do reply to all of the ones with accounts that allow private messages. My long silence has been caused by a seriously over developed work schedule. I will NOT abandon this story. Having said that especially for "**the ghost who walks**", who seemed quite concerned about my delay in posting. Fear not! The new chapter is here. XD**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Recovering Hope<strong>

*_All of a sudden he was breathing again, and she was in his arms. He didn't quite know how that had happened, but neither did he desire to question it. Holding her felt as right as flying with Thorn, and he threw caution to the wind and let his connection with her deepen, reveling in amazement as he felt her doing the same._*

A shudder swept though them both. He could feel it; a warm enticing feeling that seemed to draw in his entire focus. It was irresistible, empowering, healing, comforting, and undeniable...

Murtagh's head tipped backward, and he laughed with a strange combination of acceptance and disbelief. From high above, even Thorn let his happiness flow through the hearts of the couple, his quiet rumbling only barely restraining his desire to roar out loud.

Only now did Murtagh admit it to himself; he did love her... and as incredible as it was to believe, she loved him back. The depth of the truth that they shared with each other was unexpected but welcome, unveiled, and fragile. Yet some piece of his shattered spirit resonated with the knowledge that the world would never let them become what they were meant to be. And in that moment his laughter caught in his throat turning into more of a sob. A stabbing pain twisted inside, and the rider stuffed it quickly into that dark hidden place of his, hoping that neither Thorn nor Nasuada noticed.

Nasuada's arms tightened around him, and she breathed against his neck. "Murtagh," she whispered, "I thought you were gone."

"I know," he whispered against her temple. Then leaning back, he gazed into her eyes. "I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me to leave, but I just didn't know..." he paused, trying to explain himself; but came up empty. "I didn't know... I still don't know... Our presence will surely cause you more trouble."

Murtagh's expression grew tense at the thought of causing her more pain.

"Nasuada, if you say the word, we'll leave, and nev..."

"No!" the queen gasped, concern flooding into her eyes, and battling her stern expression. "Murtagh, don't you dare leave again." Her piercing gaze searched his, as she pressed into his mind, just how much sadness his leaving had caused her.

"Nasuada, what would you have me do?... I don't mean for the varden, and not for the kingdom... I mean for you?"

"Stay," she whispered. "Please stay... I do not yet know when or how, but I swear we'll figure something out." Her quiet words held a fierce authority, and he knew she meant it.

At that moment something happened inside the red rider, deep within the hidden keep of his heart; one of the broken shards of his spirit suddenly fell into place and mended. Even the unlikelihood of their success didn't thwart the healing. Whether Nasuada could find a way for them to overcome the worlds objections or not, it mattered little. She truly _wanted_ to find a way, and Murtagh could feel her determined resolve. That was all it took.

Suddenly there was a real hope burning within him, a long forgotten flame that flickered to life. Every beat of his heart coursed with it; the hope that now existed, where before had been only despair. And his Name changed once again. Somewhere, flying high above in the clouds the triumphant roar of a dragon poured over the countryside, and the queen and the rider found themselves laughing in each other's arms.

A slight shuffling noise sounded from the hallway. It was completely unexpected, and came as a great shock, immediately silencing the couple. But Nasuada recovered more quickly, as she recognized the source of the unusual voice.

"You might want to tell Thorn to keep it down," said the young girl framed in the doorway, "that's assuming of course you are trying to keep your presence a secret."

Elva stood there in the open doorway, her strange eyes alight with purple glow, her head tilted to one side, and her lips pursed, as if to emphasize her suggestion. She was gone before either could react, and Nasuada lost her composure as she watched the rider's stunned expression. Laughing lightly, the queen took her guest by the hand and guided him into the room, and over to sit on the edge of a well stuffed settee. She waved off his concerns over their visitor. "Don't worry. If there was a real problem, she would have warned me."

Murtagh nodded, somewhat reassured, and let himself relax as he glanced around the room. It was warmer there, nearer to the hearth where a dwindling fire fought to continue burning. The flames cast a glow on the shiny mahogany furniture as well as the queen's smooth skin, and the rider's eyes quietly drank in all the details.

"Murtagh," Nasuada whispered, breaking the silence. "Where have you been all this time?... It's been three weeks."

The rider looked a bit sheepish, and turned his gaze on the fireplace.

"Brisingr," he spelled, instantly revitalizing of the blaze. The warmth and light increased, and held his attention as he mentally worked out his reply.

"We were running... We got as far as the bay before I realized that I wouldn't be able to outrun my ghosts... I wouldn't be able to outrun my fears... and I wouldn't be able to outrun my needs..."

Here Murtagh's face and heart closed up, defending his vulnerability. Damn, what was it about this lady; how was it she was able to get him to lay his heart open bare? He could refuse her nothing. And this was nothing new. It had always been so, even in his prison cell under Farthen Dur.

"I need..." he paused for a breath. "I need to not lose whatever possibilities exist for me... whatever friendship this world will afford me."

A gentle knowing expression filled Nasuada's eyes, accompanied by a slight smile and a nod. Her understanding came from the closeness that they shared, but the rider still spoke the words aloud for her to hear.

"I have Thorn... and we could survive alone. But if there's a chance for more... I have to try... for him... for me," and here the rider seemed to struggle with his intentions. "I don't want to turn my back on our friendship."

"And there is Eragon..." the queen added, noticing his omission.

"Perhaps..." the rider's expression darkened. "But I do not think that my brother desires my friendship anymore." Murtagh pulled his gaze back to the woman at his side, and his next words were more like an accusation than a hesitant question. "He hasn't mentioned me..."

"No..." Nasuada answered slowly, cautiously. "But I know he cares about you, Murtagh, and you care about him... You two need each other."

"What I need is to _not_ force an association with a disinterested relation. I do not require a pity friend, or a guardian. Until my brother shows a true interest in my whereabouts and my welfare, I do not wish for him to know of my return."

"Murtagh..."

"I mean it, Nasuada. I want you to promise me... if he doesn't ask of me, then he doesn't need to know."

The red rider's clipped speech and deepening scowl bore testament to the seriousness of his pronouncement. Even Nasuada's knowing, skeptical gaze was not enough to cause him to back down an inch.

There was a great pang of anger and bitterness that Murtagh felt for his brother, as well as concern and affection. These strong antagonistic emotions were only heightened by the belief that the younger man cared little for him in return.

After a long moment, Nasuada sighed and nodded her assent.

"If that's how you really want it... I give you my word."

That seemed to satisfy the red rider, and he leaned back against the soft cushion of the setee, his facial expression relaxed, as did his body language.

"So... where is Eragon, anyways?"

Mirroring the rider, Nasuada leaned back as well. Her eyes fixing with a subconscious fascination on the now crackling tongues of flame. Both were aware of their touching shoulders and close proximity, both taking comfort in the level of recovered camaraderie that had been missing since the king's demise. It was truly strange that the horror they'd both endured there together had forged such a strong and unlikely bond between them. And it was also amazing how good it felt to reestablish the connection they had. It felt natural. Before Thorn, Murtagh would have never imagined such a sharing could be so consoling.

It was nearly a full minute later, before the queen made to answer him, and he had started to wonder whether she had completely forgotten the question. Then again, perhaps the blue rider's location was a secret. When the queen did speak, it was with an easy, content tone. To Murtagh it seemed that she sounded too at ease, that she cared too greatly for his brother, and within him a shard of jealousy dug into his heart, before disappearing into the shadowed keep.

"I'm actually expecting him back in a couple of days..." Nasuada explained, completely oblivious to the rider's momentary discomfort. She went on to explain where Eragon had been sent, and the great successes that he was having at dismantling the dark king's formidable and numerous spells at the various locations. The longer she spoke the more uncomfortable Murtagh appeared, until finally she stopped herself, and glared at him purposefully.

"What?..." she asked, causing the rider to shift in his space and back away from her slightly.

"He left you here? alone and unprotected? to go off sightseeing and magic wielding?" With each word, Murtagh sounded more and more furious. "Doesn't he know that you are the most important link to securing peace in Alagaesia?"

"Murtagh, I am hardly alone or unprotected," the queen scoffed. "Elva is always nearby, my guard has been increased, and Eragon placed wards of protection around me and the entire city, to assure my safety."

"And yet here I am... with you. Alone. Uninvited; a magician, a former enemy, and a potential threat. If I had been intending you harm, there would have been..."

"If you had intended me harm, you would have been detected and dealt with," she interrupted sharply with an icy glare. "I have complete confidence in the security here."

Murtagh heaved a dissatisfied sigh, and using the 'Name' he examined the wards surrounding the queen and her city. His scowl deepened. He had to admit that for the most part they were all well placed and very effectively worded. But he did find a couple of tiny nuances that could be taken advantage of, though it was highly unlikely that anyone else but him could have spotted the lapse.

"It isn't perfect... but I must say I'm impressed with his spellcasting."

There was a hint of forced admiration in Murtagh's voice, and indulgently Nasuada smiled.

"Well to be honest," she clarified, watching Murtagh's reaction from the corner of her eye, "he did have help from a number of the Eldunarya when he created the wards... and several of the elves as well. But they all worked tirelessly till the city was secured."

The red rider nodded in grudging acceptance of her assessment. Little could be done to keep her safer, save having a dragon rider at her side, and the son of Morzan lamented his own inability to step into the role of protector. The thought prompted a frown, and the queen hedged towards him just enough that their shoulders were touching again.

"Murtagh... what's troubling you?" she asked softly. Her voice seemed to have a tranquilizing effect on her guest, and he sighed, letting himself sag further into the cushioned backing.

"Truth?..." the red rider raised his gaze to meet hers. She had accepted his moods unconditionally, and for that alone she deserved an answer...

There was something so natural about the moment; the warmth of the fire and the closeness of their bond, and without really noticing, somehow they ended up hand in hand together. For the next few hours the couple spoke about so many things, enjoying every nuance of the time they had together.

Murtagh quietly confessed his desire to help her, and his frustration over the fact that the way things were at the moment, his presence would do little but make things more unstable for the kingdom. He knew that it would take time to gain the people's acceptance, but he also knew that time alone would not accomplish this. He had to do something to make things right... but what could he do?

Nasuada agreed that Alagaesia might not yet be ready to accept him, but that alone shouldn't force him into hiding. She knew that there would be some resistance to his return, no matter how long he waited. And she was right. But so was he. The new kingdom was still in a fragile state, and Murtagh held firm that at least for the moment his presence needed to remain a secret.

Then he shared with her that he had located his father's castle. It was proving an ideal place for the red pair to stay relatively close by, while remaining hidden from the rest of the world. He even described the grounds to her, though he left out mentioning the Guardian. There were a couple of books he was reading that he thought would interest her, and she laughed at his description of deep water fishing with Thorn in Leona Lake.

That was when he pulled out his mother's ruby pendant, and put it around her neck. With the enchanted gift she would be able to scry him anytime she liked. After explaining how she was to use it, he also warned that it was a tool of the original black hand, Selena, and might be recognized if worn openly. It might be better to keep it hidden within her garments. She nodded slowly in agreement.

Over the previous week, several bizarre disputes had been brought before Nasuada, and she mentioned them to the rider in passing. She was quite surprised when Murtagh guessed the names of those involved. He had laughed, telling her about the myriad details, and long standing nuances of the feud. He also gave her a couple suggestions as to how to address the families involved.

It wasn't till she began to expound on her plans to restrain magic users across the land, that a quiet tension rose between them, mocking the gentle union they shared. She could immediately tell he didn't approve, but she continued explaining her reasons until his continued silence prompted her to ask.

"Why not?..."

Murtagh had to ponder a moment how to make his point clear to her. When he looked up, there was such an intense conviction in his face that it took the queen's breath away.

"Imagine a kingdom, with towns and citizens, all holding their own swords and bows and catapults. There may be an occasional disagreement or a really bad character who misused his weapons, but for the most part, the citizens are law abiding and conscientious.

"The problem with trying to control the ones who do evil with their weapons, is that your only real target is the weapon itself. So you take all the weapons, or you make them ineffective... Then what happens?... The bad characters use other tactics, rocks or ropes or whatever, and they continue their abuses. Only now they attack with more abandon, for the rest of the citizens are unable to defend themselves properly. The citizens' first line of defense lie in those who are nearby at the time of the attack, only without their weapons they too would be defenseless.

"You see, if you don't aim for the thing or person that is the actual cause of the problem, you won't solve it."

"But, how can I stop the bad character from doing the abuse _before_ it happens?"

Murtagh looked at Nasuada's beautiful face, and recognized within her the desire to keep her subjects safe from whatever might harm them. It was an admirable intention. But it was also an impossible task. No leader could force perfection on his people. Individual choice would never allow it.

"You can't," he said simply. "What you are describing is the removal of freedom. Even if it is for a good cause, the loss of true freedom is never right. And I know..." his whispered voice sounded distant and lost. "The king truly believed that his position was right and good... and to see it through, he forced his agenda on others, every step of the way. Didn't you notice his surprise at the end? Did you see his confusion?

"Please don't misunderstand... I'm not comparing your intentions to that of the king's... but I lost my freedom. I lost the chance to _choose_ to fight alongside my brother. It was _stolen_ from me, and I'll never get that back. I'll forever be marked by what I was forced to do... all in the name of the king's glorious intentions."

There was a long pause accentuated by the snapping and crackling of the cheery blaze. But Murtagh did finally take a deep breath and his words broke the silence.

"Nasuada, don't take away the chance for the bad character to choose to do good."

Those last quiet words hung in the air, and the queen had to reach to really comprehend the depth of the rider's plea. That was when it hit her, that she was proposing to shackle every magician, whether good or bad, all in the name of protecting the masses from the few who might abuse. And the surprise of the sudden realization stunned her. It was hardly fair.

Truthfully, it would likely be possible, and frankly easier, to let magicians live freely under certain regulations, and if those were broken, charge the individuals involved, and deal with them. It _would_ be easier, provided that her conditions were accepted and upheld by the magicians, or a majority of them anyways. Still Nasuada was not convinced that she shouldn't do something more. For some reason she didn't want to abandon all attempts at finding a better safe guard.

"I shall consider your words carefully before making any decisions."

Murtagh nodded. Her words weren't actually a concession, but her tone held understanding and a willingness to reconsider her own position, and that was enough.

"What will become of us?" he asked thickly. There was a seriousness to his expression that also bordered on sadness. "It's almost dawn, and Thorn and I must depart soon."

"I wish you could stay... Maybe a disguise," she said, almost grasping. "Murtagh, I could really use your knowledge and advise when it comes to the situation between the nobles and the populace. From what you have told me, many of the real issues are hidden beneath the more petty squabbles. Your help would be invaluable to me... to the stability of the new reign."

Nasuada's eyes bore deeply into the rider's, willing him to consider her words. But Murtagh would not be swayed.

"I'm sorry. I can't stay, not here, not now. But I will only be a few hours away by dragon. Thorn and I will visit whenever we're able; and with the pendant we can talk everyday if you'd like. And don't worry Nasuada, I'll advise you the best I can, but do not disregard your own intuition. You, my queen, are a natural leader..."

His words trailed off, and his expression grew pained, though he did try to smile.

The rider's hand moved to touch the ruby jewel hanging just above the neckline of Nasuada's nightdress, and he had to struggle to resist the powerful temptation to pull her close. If he did so now, he knew he would never be able to leave. He could see in her eyes that she knew it too.

"I miss you already."

"Me too," she whispered in return.

"I have to go..."

"I know..."

His forehead leaned forward to rest against hers, and he remained there for several breaths before lifting her hand to his lips.

"Farewell, M'Lady..."

The rider's departure was too swift. One second he was next to the queen on the sofa, and the next he had disappeared out of the balcony doors.

"Farewell, my recovered knight..."

The queen clutched the ruby in her hands, as she came to grips with all that had happened that night. The ever so slight pulsation of the jewel was a gentle reminder of the rider's return. Murtagh was back, and with him her own recovered hope; her hope for the future.

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><p><strong>ANotes: ****Posted 1-7-2012. {RE-Posted 1-9-2012} Once more, I apologize for the delay.**

**Evidence of a CP Logic Failure:**** I'm interested... Did anyone else notice that conversation between Eragon and Nasuada that spanned the pages 806 through 808 of "Inheritance"? During their discussion, the blue rider completely contradicts himself... He started out trying to convince the queen that he is a potential threat to the security of Alagaesia, and that is why he has to go. He ignores her protests that 'he would never become like Galbatorix,' and goes on to further argue, that in spite of his lack of a deity, that he is completely accountable to himself, Saphira, Nasuada, Arya, Orik, the Eldunari, eggs, the future riders and all of Alagaesia. He states she should trust him. So... Is he trustworthy, or not? Even HE can't make up his mind... Or perhaps he suffers from MPD {multiple personality disorder} XP* Or is it that CP hasn't a clue...?**

**And this is only one of the numerous conflicting points that I noticed. Whoever betas {edits} for Paolini, did a horrible job... XP***

**Hey! Perhaps, I should point out a classic logic failure in each of my chapters... what do you guys think? XD**


	5. Seeking Truths and New Names   Revised

**Another Chapter Re-Do: Thanks to the gentle nudge by LupusAter, I have stalled a bit... The Re-Naming of Thorn is plaguing me. I want to do it so badly I can taste it. But I did do it badly, and Thorn deserves better... So lacking sufficient imagination, I have decided to plagiarize. I am stealing/borrowing/promoting/using the name from ChaosinElysium's "One Change." ** This is because it is such an absolutely perfect name...****

**To find out what the name is... you will have to either Re-Read this chapter, or check out his story... {his story is ultimately the better read, and I highly encourage you to do so.} I hope you all forgive my lack of creativity, and I hope Chaosim forgives my tiny theft. ) **

**"Remember..." ***grins*** "Imitation is the highest form of flattery."**

**Oh yeah... For those who think Murtagh is OOC in this character, please know that HE IS! But then again, his name has just changed for the second time in a month. But please don't worry. His character won't be lost in the end, just some of his no longer necessary 'outer armor'**

**READ ON!**

**1-19-2012:**_ Isn't that interesting that I should have to re-post a chapter that originally went up on Friday the thirtienth?..._

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><p><strong><span>OriginalNotes: Posted 1-13-2012 {and a Friday, to boot...} XD**

**I know this is short, and a bit of a filler. I wanted to show some of the after thoughts/emotions. It was going to be part of a rather long chapter, but then I decided that it needed to be separated from the more adventurous intrigue that will dominate the following couple chapters... So this one is a bit early as well as short... **

**Warning: The POV in this chapter is very much a combination of Murtagh and Thorn. And so far it is strangely merged. Though as dragon and rider are linked, I like to _think_ it makes sense. But please tell me if it is too awkward, and I'll try to re-work it, focusing on either one or the other... Thanks everyone... and ENJOY! XD**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Seeking Truths and New Names<strong>

Murtagh leaned back against his large reclining ruby partner, as they looked up at the sky through the changing leaves. Something about the dancing colors that splashed upon a deep blue canvas fed the rider's spirit. As the images washed over him, a cool invigorating breeze made him feel even more alive.

He and Thorn were free.

How many times during the past few weeks had he been rendered speechless by the realization of this simple fact? Too many times to count... How many times had he swallowed his disbelief? At least two dozen times... How many times had a tear of relief rolled down his upturned face? Five times... and this was number six - not that he would let anyone but Thorn see such a sight.

Now there was even more to be grateful for. The red pair had discovered a place to call their own, where they could rest in relative safety, and they had a true friend in the outside world. The thought of Nasuada brought a smile to Murtagh's unusually peaceful face. He had changed; and once again the strong-willed beauty had been the catalyst of the transformation. Whatever happened to the ruby pair, Murtagh knew that at least one being in the land held him in high regard. At least one person truly cared about what befell them. One individual desired his existence; his presence even. And she was queen of all the land. It was still difficult to comprehend.

_Incredible._

The vibrations of a contented dragon seeped through their intrinsic bond, and into the rider's body from where the two were in physical contact. It was almost beyond imagining that hope had found such a secure hold on his heart; but it had. Smiling the rider tipped his head back to meet the smug expression of his dragon.

_Told you... _

Those simple words covered a vast meaning. For Thorn had told Murtagh many things, and the mental images that he sent his rider confirmed each of them... Thorn had been right about returning to Alagaesia. His advice had been sound in seeking to make a difference rather than hiding from the world. And most of all, he had accepted and even encouraged the rider in reaching out to grasp whatever friendship that fate was willing to afford him'...

Murtagh felt too good to disabuse his partner's claims; not to mention, the dragon had been right again, as usual. Instead, the rider let a surge of enjoyment wash over him, his own smile increasing as he felt Thorn happiness grow.

_Yes... you did, _the rider admitted.

_And you did the queen as much good as she did for you._

_I don't know about that Thorn... but she _was_ happy to see me._

_You should have kissed her, _the dragon scoffed.

_Thorn..._

_You two legs take so long getting around to mating, it's amazing there are as many of you as there are._

Murtagh couldn't resist genuinely laughing at the absurd comment, and the dragon turned to him in astonishment. Never before had he known his rider to be in such an amiable mood.

_Who are you?_ the dragon asked in jest. But he was only half joking.

Deep inside Thorn had always known that there was a great untapped potential lying within his chosen rider, but at that moment, the changes in Murtagh rendered him almost unrecognizable. Even now Thorn could feel his rider eagerly ponder the question; 'who are you?'

_I'm not really sure Thorn,_ the rider finally responded, his amusement giving way to a growing realization. _But I think I'm closer to who I truly want to be... _

Murtagh reached for his dragon through their bond and let his love for his partner sweep over them... At first it held the familiar hint of desperation and bitterness that usually reflected the rider's greatest regret. Nothing had pained Murtagh more than the realization that his connection to young dragon had been such a source of pain for Thorn during his short life.

But the essence of regret lasted only a moment. Almost instantly it was transformed. The desperation and bitterness dissipated, leaving in its place, a fierce gratitude and a tenacious determination to make the most of his gifts. And the greatest of these gifts was Thorn himself.

Murtagh pressed upon his partner's heart, the knowledge that he was the center of the rider's courage and strength. This realization surged across their link, and filled the dragon with a sense of pride that he had never before known. Up to now, Thorn had secretly harbored the fear that by his hatching, he had caused Murtagh to suffer under the king, and no amount of persuasion on Murtagh's part would convince him otherwise.

Now, suddenly the dragon 'knew'... he knew more surely than he had known anything before, save his choice of rider... No longer was he the pawn of evil. _He_ and his rider had overcome uncountable odds and prevailed. _He_ was a full-fledged victorious warrior. _He_ was an honorable and heroic member of a magnificent race. _He_ was wise and cunning in his choice of a rider. And_ he_ was a mighty dragon.

_Murtagh... _the dragon announced with a mountain of resolve._ I want a real name._

It was an adamant request, as well as sudden. And it made so much sense that the rider was almost surprised that he hadn't thought of that himself.

_Yes,_ Murtagh nodded understanding. _But we need to not lose the old as we seek your true title. "Thorn" should be part of it... _

The dragon hummed with agreement and both settled back to think on possible names. They still had plenty of time before the sky darkened enough for them to continue unseen on their way back to Edoc'sil'baen. Thus long minutes stretched into hours as the pair reclined, simply enjoying the peaceful view.

Colorful leaves shimmered above them with oranges, yellows, and reds, and in certain places, the sun penetrated the canopy to strike the dragon's ruby scales. From this, multiple jewel-like prisms reflected back up, dancing upon the already spectacular ceiling, and making the whole thing look like it was alight with fire. A small smile curled on Murtagh's lips.

"What about Thorn Freedomfire?" asked the rider aloud. It was just a random inquiry. And Murtagh never imagined that the dragon would be satisfied with his first suggestion. At least in this the rider was right. The gravely sound of dragon laughter shook the immediate area.

_Thorn Freedomfire and his rider Merry Murtagh..._

The rider nearly choked at the dragon's description of him, even though he couldn't help but see a bit of humor in it.

_Not funny, Thorn... _said Murtagh, intentionally leaving off the addition to his name. A subliminal growl from the dragon prompted the rider to retort.

_Why should I call you by a noble name while you get to make fun of mine?_

Thorn scoffed with a huff of heated smoke.

_When you think of something noble for me, I will consider revising yours._

A sensation of pleading flowed from the rider to his dragon. Just cause he had yet to come up with an acceptable name didn't mean he deserved Thorn's teasing.

_Very well... _the dragon relented, sending his chosen a wave of acceptance and warmth._ How about Murtagh NameChanger. _

Murtagh sighed with relief.

_Thank you Thorn. That sounds much better, _he stated._ And I hope to never hear you use 'Merry Murtagh' ever again._ Even as the words came out of Murtagh's mind, he had to grin at the sheer ridiculousness of the name. And Thorn marveled at his rider's continued happiness.

_Murtagh, _the dragon stated as dryly as possible._ I don't know if I'll be able to get used to the new you; overflowing with joy like this._

_Well I wouldn't get too used to it, _the rider warned._ I'm sure it is just a temporary condition; a result of the shock of all the unexpected esterní... I'm not used to good forturne._

The rider glanced sidelong at his bonded partner, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

_Don't tell me you prefer me quiet and moody... _the rider pressed.

_If I wanted that, I'd bring up your little brother in the conversation..._

An emotional cloud settled over Murtagh, in spite of the pristine sky. And though the mention of his sibling wasn't enough to break his overall good mood, it definitely took him down from the high he had been experiencing, and left him in a more moderate temperament.

Thorn couldn't help but be impressed with Murtagh's hold on his peace, in spite of the touchy subject. Prior to this, any mention of Eragon seemed to illicit a spike of pain and anger, centering on that place where the rider kept things hidden. The fact that NameChanger took this teasing so well, only encouraged the dragon to pursue the topic further.

_Murtagh... just because it looks to you like your brother doesn't care, that doesn't mean it's the truth... After all, it appeared to all the world, that you and I willingly served that crowned monster on the throne._

The rider scowled slightly as he pondered that thought. It was true that his beliefs concerning Eragon were based on mostly circumstantial evidence, but there had been little evidence to indicate that his brother felt anything at all for him... good or bad.

_Eragon pulled you to safety when the throne room came down around us... That is the truth._

_He may have only done that to preserve the dragon species..._

_Murtagh, _the ruby dragon scolded._ How can you expect Eragon to think good things of you, unless you are willing to return the favor.._._ Just try assuming that he has your best interest at heart, at least until it is proven otherwise._

_That is easier to say than it is to do, my friend._

Thorn hummed in acceptance of the impasse. Pushing Murtagh had never resulted in swaying his opinion, so he wisely resolved to let his partner have time to think over their conversation. The dragon was certain that things were going to work out in the end. Now more than ever, Thorn trusted Murtagh to come to the best decision, even if the rider _did_ need the nudge of his dragon's wisdom to point him in the right direction. But that was only natural after all. For he knew the truth as well as any dragon did...

_What rider was able to function without his Dragon? _

Thorn mused solemnly to himself... but Murtagh must have heard, because he chuckled softly, and replied with yet another truth.

_And what dragon would be complete without his rider?_

_You still need to come up with a name for me..._

_Don't worry my friend... I will._

Resigned to the task the pair mentally tossed names back and forth to each other; for until nightfall they had no other activity to occupy them. Finally, Murtagh, tired of the continual rejection, receded into an easy silence. It seemed that in this matter, Thorn was apparently going to be a very picky dragon.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Thorn's New Name:<span> Thorn's new name will be uncovered next chapter. For some reason it just didn't flow well as an addition to this chapter. So sorry.**

**CP Logic Failure: The faulty explanation of Hrothgar's death...**

**According to the green book, Murtagh went into the Battle of the Burning Plains planning to disobey Galby. He knew he would spare his brother, and chose to appease his master by taking out the dwarven king; all this hoping that he and Thorn would be spared a punishment... **

**This is not possible for the following reasons...**

**Reason# 1**

**Think about the order of events... Murtagh killed the dwarven king FIRST... even before he fought with E&S, conquered E&S, revealed himself to E&S, or agreed to spare E&S. THEN after Eragon begs Murtagh to spare him, there is a long discussion with Thorn. This is an indication {to me} that M&T were just then discovering the loophole they used to release the blue pair. Because of this, I don't believe M&T pre-meditatively decide to "off" Hrothgar, or leave E&S behind...**

**Reason# 2**

**ADDITIONALLY, Murtagh mentioned specifically that he knew he would be in trouble with the king, and would likely be unable to show them mercy again in the future. This shows {in my opinion} that M&T had not believed that dealing death to the dwarves would spare them the king's ire. Later in Brisingr, it was confirmed that M&T were indeed punished for the loss of the blue pair... Hrothgar's death wasn't even a factor there... **

**{I really can't believe that this lame explanation was the best that CP could come up with to explain the dwarf king's death.} XP***

**I DO however have an alternative {and very logical} theory. I think that without the twins there to spy, that the leader of the varden was still a mystery to the king. So Murtagh could have been ordered to locate and destroy the varden leader... {a perfectly legitimate plan.} BUT Murtagh, saw Nasuada giving directions. And not wanting to kill the daughter of Ajihad, the red rider convinced himself that the Dwarf King {leading the charge against the empire} was the new leader of the Varden, turning his "oath to kill" in a direction other than Nasuada. Again, Just a theory... But look for it in my upcoming chapter of "An Enemy's Heart."**


	6. Author Notes and a Sneak Peek

**My friends and readers,**

**Please bear with me during my break from writing. I am NOT abandoning my works. I am however pausing in order to pursue a personal issue. I anticipate a month delay in my posting {or maybe two at most.} And during this time, my reading and reviewing will likely be delayed, or diminished a bit. **

**Now I thank you in advance for your patience, and hope that this short excerpt from an upcoming chapter will soften the blow of my absence.**

**Sincerely, Restrained Freedom**

* * *

><p><strong>SNEAK PEEK<strong>

"That's him... That's the one... He is plotting to kill Nasuada..."

The restrained rider's outburst initially drew more gazes, but then many turned to see the retreating dwarf come to a halt under the scrutiny of his peers. Glowering, he spat at the bound traitor.

"No dwarf in his right mind will believe your words... traitor, pestilence, kingkiller..."

"You _have_ to believe me," Murtagh strained against the grip of the guards that were restraining him. "I _swear_ it is true..."

"And _I_ say that you lie." An underlying smirk of satisfaction grew on the face of the dwarf, and he stepped back almost imperceptibly, as if to retreat.

"On the honor of king Hrothgar, you _must_ listen to me..." The last part of whatever Murtagh was saying was drowned out completely, and all hell broke out at those words. It was as if a sea of dwarven warriors crashed in upon the rider...

The struggle between the dwarves and their prisoner was furious, but lasted only briefly, ending with Orik's axe poised over the barely restrained rider's throat. The snarl on the face of the king told clearly of his intention. The murder of his foster father would soon be avenged. A spark of panicked realization flashed across Murtagh's expression.

Reining in his fear, Murtagh let his eyes meet those of the dwarf king. Orik was of one mind, and that was unquestionable, but his axe did not yet strike.

"Son of the forsworn monster... Right hand of the scourge... Murderer of the great dwarven king... How DARE you utter such words in here?"

Taking a deep breath, Murtagh made to answer. His voice was low and ominous as he spoke with firm resolve.

"Do not undo the sacrifice of Hrothgar's life over something as meaningless as hatred... You can do with me as you will, but first hear me out... and expose the traitor who means to kill the queen."

Grumbling came from all directions, and grew into shouts of derision...

"Kill him now..."

"Death is too good for the devil's spawn."

But Orik bellowed for order to be maintained, and once it had, he refocused his fiery gaze of contempt towards the bane of the dwarven nation.

"You are only alive right now for _one_ reason, and one reason _alone_... not for the sake of my adopted brother will I spare you... not for the sake of the Queen on the throne... not for your insulting accusations either."

Leaning closer, the dwarf king pressed the blade of his axe into Murtagh's flesh, causing a line of blood to trickle down his neck.

"No... You are alive only until I come up with an adequate demise for you... one befitting your devilry."

Orik sneered triumphantly as he witnessed the cold realization that crossed the face of the rider. Murtagh had clearly made a mistake in coming here, and this mistake just might end up his last...

* * *

><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 01-29-2012**


	7. Unexpected Visitors: Part I & Part II

**A/Notes:**

**Posted 2-29-2012 I know I really rushed this cause I thought it would be fun to post on this day. So I apologize for the lack of Quality. It almost feels like two short chapters. I will likely go back and split them up for that reason... not sure. Please feel free to suggest your thoughts. And I thank you in advance.**

**Please remember that the previous chapter was a sneak peek at a future chapter and has not yet happened.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Unexpected Visitors<strong>

The pair's destination was to be the northeastern coast of the great lake of Leona. There, nestled securely within the foothills of the Spine Mountains, stood the secluded estate of Edoc'sil'baen. Due to the overgrowth of trees, shrubs, moss, and ivy, it would be difficult to see. Even if it were spotted, it would appear long abandoned. Still, to the red pair it was a beautiful sight. It was a calm refuge in a dangerous world, and one they were yearning to return to.

Actually the world around them had been becoming much less dangerous; for most of the land's inhabitants. But when it came to the king's former henchman, there was little tolerance to be found. Locating the rider's childhood home had offered them an unexpected welcome, and the only likely source of comfort and security; and for this they were both grateful.

The ruby scaled dragon sailed over the moon kissed surface of the lake, when he spotted a large school of fish just below them under the waves. There was a slight twist to Thorn's flight, and an upward tilt that brought the flight to a complete stall. The unexpected dive into the water took his rider by surprise, but at the last moment he caught on to what Thorn was doing.

As they struck the cold fresh liquid, Murtagh let go of the dragon, giving him a better streamline for his underwater chase, and he felt the thrill of the hunt surging through his scaled partner's being. Rising to the surface, the rider pulled in deep breaths of air, and glanced around at the rather large expanding ripples that their impact had made in the surface. It was a rather enchanting view, but Murtagh cleared his mind of such sentimental thoughts, and began swimming towards the shoreline.

The rider hadn't gotten far when he was lifted out of the water by the sparkling, water soaked, fish filled, happy humming dragon. Straddled either side of Thorn's snout, Murtagh leaned back and laughed. Once again the feeling of freedom flowed between them, growing stronger until it seemed their hearts would burst. Nothing had ever felt so good. It was all Thorn could do to keep from blasting the lake and countryside with an exuberant flaming roar; an action which would have shook the inhabitants of any nearby villagers, and would have likely singed his rider.

Leaning forward with his arms outstretched, Murtagh rode his dragon's head high into the air and towards their awaiting haven. Wind from the flight whipped his wet hair behind him, and he grinned with a playful sarcasm.

_I hope you saved one of those fish for me... _the rider teased, pressing his own feelings of hunger into the dragon's contented fullness.

_Ooops... _Thorn responded with only the slightest hint of regret, and even that turned quickly into humor as their dwelling emerged from the mists at their approach.

_Home,_ the dragon hummed with a quiet satisfaction as he angled into a gentle glide aiming for Murtagh's balcony.

The rider had chosen the guest suite as his own. Being on the upper floor, and the south west corner of the castle, it offered the best view of Leona's distant shoreline. It also allowed for a wonderful breeze that wafted through the adjoined rooms. Murtagh closed his eyes as they descended, and smiled at the thought of lying in a soft bed with the fresh air gently stirring.

The clacking echo of dragon talons against the stone surface pulled him from his reverie, and he opened his tired eyes. Much of the water from their unplanned swim had been blown away during the last leg of the flight, leaving the pair damp but not dripping. Sighing, the rider slid off the saddle and muttered a spell that let the harness drop from the dragon's back.

Thorn growled with approval and shook the kinks out of his limbs before kicking the leather trappings into the far corner of the balcony. His hunger having been sated, the dragon's only purpose now was a long well earned sleep. He circled his bedding, which consisted of the thick skins of some creature that they could only guess at, and thumped down with a heavy exhalation. The dragon's relief and exhaustion assaulted Murtagh's senses, and in response he sent his partner a wave of acknowledgement and gratitude for the gift of bearing him on the distant journey.

"It is good to be home my friend," the rider said turning longingly in the direction of the large plush mattress that made up his bedding.

**_It is nice to know that you value my friendship, boy rider..._** the mental voice of the Guardian teased, inserting herself into the pair's conversation. Murtagh blinked in surprise at the unexpected interruption. He had nearly forgotten about the talkative ward.

"Guardian," the boy rider greeted once he had recovered. "I gather all went well while we were away."

**_Of course. Edoc'sil'baen is secure, as always; in spite of the visitors._**

* * *

><p>Over the next hour or so, the Guardian nonchalantly informed the concerned pair of the incident that had occurred during their absence.<p>

Apparently, a group of four magicians had approached the estate that first night, when the moon was at it's height. They had attempted to gain entry using a selection of pathetic spells; all of which were easily countered by the sentient ward. One of the spells even attempted to tap into the Guardian's power source, and was rewarded with the death of the hapless sorcerer. The three remaining 'would be' intruders retreated back the way they had come.

Of course this conversation caused Murtagh to question further as to what exactly the Guardian used as a power source, and the answer surprised both dragon and rider... Eldunari; there was quite a collection of them stored below the castle, but only two of them were currently giving aid to the castle defense. One was Knaogr, and the other... Saphira.

Stunned; there was no other word to describe it. Just the thought that the Heart of Brom's dragoness was willingly working to secure Morzan's estate was utterly staggering. Murtagh's shock had been great, though Thorn seemed to think the turn of events to be rather intriguing. Curiosity finally began to overcome the rider's astonishment, and he had been about to request to see the Hearts for himself, but before he was able, the Guardian mentioned in passing that the magicians had spoken of an assassination before departing.

This news immediately drew Murtagh's focus, and as the Guardian shared her gathered knowledge with her young master, his worry deepened. Nasuada was in danger.

* * *

><p>"You are going to have to be especially vigilant, M'Lady. I do not yet know who is behind this, or how many of them there are. Thorn and I will be searching for the remaining magicians in the morning, but they will be more than a day ahead of us, and we can't be sure of their direction."<p>

Seeing the beautiful face staring back at him with her serious expression made the rider long to reach into the scrying mirror and touch her reassuringly; but he could not. Instead he curled his hand into a fist, in an effort to curtail the urge.

"Please Nasuada... please be careful."

"You be careful. You are the one chasing after assassins, after all."

"Perhaps, but I am not their target, nor do they even know that I exist. Additionally, I have a dragon."

The queen gave in to a small smile of concession, and nodded agreement to his request. She would need to strengthen her guard in light of this news.

"Very well... You are right of course. I will take extra precautions here. So do not worry."

Then as her gaze swept over him, a look of longing crossed her features momentarily.

"When will I hear from you again?"

"I don't know," he admitted with regret. "But as soon as I am able, you can be sure I will contact you."

A thick silence fell between them as they gazed across the magical distance between them. Neither seemed to want to break the spell; the connection that seemed all the more real, in spite of many leagues that separated them.

"Be safe, my queen."

"And you, my rider."

The edge of Murtagh's mouth lifted in a slight smile, and a sparkle of appreciation graced the lady's dark eyes. There was something almost magic in their mildly possessive titles that seemed to secure the unspoken bond between them. As the image in the mirror dispersed with the released spell, the rider whispered.

"Wiol ono."

* * *

><p><strong>Updated 5-2-2012<strong>

**Edited into two separate chapters; Chapter Six and Chapter Seven. This posting was originally set up as one chapter, but I felt that it would work better if there was a clearer division between the above section and the one below. Other than that, nothing has changed.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Unexpected Visitor, Part II<strong>

The man looked to be in his early forties with greying sandy hair long and pulled back and tied, tanned aged skin covered a stern unshaven face, and an alert posture and gate that spoke of casual competence. The faded leather cloak hung open revealing what looked like an ordinary sword, but the man didn't bother hiding beneath the cowl. His identity was hidden by means of magic.

Piercing blue-grey eyes ever scanned the caravan and the surroundings as they progressed further southward. This whole search was taking much longer than he had first thought, and as of yet it had revealed little.

.

_It had been almost a week earlier that they had departed Edoc'sil'baen on their new venture. The overcast weather had worked greatly to their advantage, as they were able to hide within the clouds, and use magic to be able to see through them._

_Luckily the retreating magicians had no idea that they were being hunted. In fact they had been so involved in finding their way back from the warded castle, that they were quite oblivious to anything else. This was due in part to the disorientation spell placed upon the hidden estate. It's purpose was to skew the perception of those unlucky enough to happen upon it uninvited._

_By the time the dragon and rider had spotted the trio of mages, they were just north of Dras Leona. The three had approached a large group of travelers, and seemed to have arranged to join them on their southward march. And the numbers only grew with the addition of those leaving the dismal city. Dras Leona had never been an ideal place to live._

_Judging by the size of the group, it looked as though they had chosen to travel together for safety reasons. And that was a very smart move. There were still factions of troops loyal to the fallen king, or to their own individual lords and generals; and these men now posed dangers to anyone that stumbled across their paths._

_This particular caravan was a strange sight to behold, with its varying banners and members. Many were dwarven warriors making a return to the Beors. Still more were Surdan soldiers heading south, with the intention of securing their new borders. Families and solitary individuals made up a civilian population as well, but their reasons for travel were varied, and held little interest to the son of Morzan. He was there for one purpose; to find and deal with the threat to the queen._

_Donning his disguise, the red rider met with the group near Helgrind, and journeyed south with the caravan in order to observe the mages activities more closely. All the while, the ruby scaled dragon was never too far away; either high in the clouds, hidden in the lake, or hunting in the mountains. The trip was uneventful so far, and seemed painfully slow to the pair, used to flying as they were._

.

Being evening, the caravan had stopped to make camp for the night. Fires dotted the hillside along the road as groups came together for meals and rest, each according to kind. Dwarves with dwarves, Surdans with Surdans, and various town and family units. Not really being welcome anywhere, Murtagh stood on the edge of camp, leaning against an ancient oak and pretending to puff on a lit pipe.

_I'm back from my hunt, Namechanger._

Murtagh smiled at his dragon's greeting. Smiling within this forged face was even more foreign than usual, but in a strange way it was liberating too. He was a nobody to these people, a stranger with no ties to anyone but himself. Why would any of these travelers even think twice about him smiling.

_That is good to know, Airi._

Murtagh could feel the dragon's contentment at hearing his new name... his free name. It had taken a day or two of suggestions and contemplation, but they had come up with Airithorn Freedomfire, which Murtagh quickly shortened to Airi. He still reverted to calling him Thorn half of the time, and the Freedomfire had been tacked on in jest, but afterwards it had grown on them and they decided to keep it.

_Have you gotten any closer to discovering the leader of the magic two-legs?_

The only answer Murtagh gave was a mental scowl, and a noncommittal grunt. It seemed that most of these travelers were giving the stranger a wide berth... and the magicians were more cautious than most.

Originally arriving as a lone figure, Murtagh had been questioned and scrutinized rather thoroughly before being allowed to join the procession. He had claimed that he was Eldmoi Tornacson; a dealer in unusual trinkets and artifacts, selling to anyone who would meet his price, whether they be Nomad, Surdan, Varden or the Empire. In truth, it had been the generous presence of silver in his coin-purse that convinced the officials to admit him. And so, by the travelers, he was simply referred to as 'the trader.' But in spite of his willingness to deal with any faction, or perhaps because of it, he found there were few who would tolerate him.

Just as the trader tilted his head back, scanning the sky for any sign of his friend, he was startled by a voice from behind him.

"You don't strike me as the type to be found daydreaming."

Murtagh froze. The accent was most certainly that of a dwarf. Gathering his composure, he turned to face the shorter, broader, well armed figure. He prayed his disguise would hold, and did his best to present what he hoped was a calm expression. But he couldn't help wondering whether the other could sense his heart pounding like the Drums of Derva...

* * *

><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 2/29/2012 How about that... It's Leap Year!**

**Paolini Logic Flaws... Just how strong and capable IS Galbatorix? ****Now this is a serious question to ask, so before you answer please consider the following facts...**

**Murtagh was captured and taken by the twins to the king, and tortured. Then his mind was breached by Galbatorix, who found and used Murtagh's true name to force his cooperation. How long did this process take? It isn't revealed. But apparently it involved the torturing of the ruby hatchling to accomplish.**

**And during the battle between Eragon and Galbatorix, even with Eragon being a rider, and having the support of his dragon and numerous eldunari, the king almost breaches his defenses in just one scene... Eragon's mind would have been forced open if not for one last desperate act; spelling the king into a forced empathy with all of his victims, which luckily diverts the king's attack.**

**But when Nasuada was taken, things were quite different. Galbatorix had her repeatedly tortured, and tried continually and unsuccessfully to breach her defenses... But she holds her own... even after weeks of abuse... {Really?}**

**So, I have to wonder... How is it that Galbatorix is able to overcome all the other minds, including the riders of old, but not Nasuada's? I know that she had Murtagh helping her, but did she really have the strength to thwart Galbatorix when Eragon and the other riders couldn't?...**

**Either Galbatorix WAS powerful enough to break them all, or he wasn't... I find the image of him being able to quickly break Murtagh and Eragon incongruous with his inability to affect Nasuada.**

**Sorry, it just seems NOT logical.**


	8. Losing Heart

**A/Notes: **

**This is short, and it may seem to be just sort of stuck in there, but it does play a role in the unfolding of this story. I hope you all enjoy it**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Losing Heart<strong>

The view above the clouds was magical and inviting. There were layers of sunshine and vaporous valleys, an endless field of light and shadow... It was a great day to play.

The ruby dragon dove through the clouds, and followed along the open pockets of air that were carved between the cloud walls that formed the numerous puffy corridors. Even though his rider was elsewhere, Thorn was content, for he was not alone. Hidden within his spelled-harness-pack, he was carrying a dragon's Heart.

Not that this was the first time he had born a Kin-Heart, but it was the first time that the Heart involved had been there of its own accord, and with soundness of mind. Broken-Bound-Kin-Hearts were all he had previously known, and the sadness and pain that he had encountered through those connections had been enough to dissuade him from attempting to know any of them more deeply.

That was until he had met Brom's Saphira. She had literally gushed over him with enthusiasm and pleasure; so grateful she had been to know that the dragon race was not completely lost.

During those first two hours of their acquaintance, the pair had enlightened the Eldunari of recent events; the boy-rider-Eragon, his blue dragoness-named-for-her, and the demise of the egg-stealer-monster-king. In return she shared with them many things. She spoke of how the devil-forsworn had torn her Heart from her dying carcass. Saphira's last view had been that of her motionless rider. Decades she had spent walled up with her pain and guilt, not knowing whether or not Brom had survived. Surely the wicked one had disposed of him. So she had used her anguish as a shield against Morzan's attempt to access her knowledge and power. Finally, she had been cast into a dark vault with other 'useless' Eldunarya, and she knew no more until decades later, when the devil's consort stumbled upon the locked treasure.

.

_Saphira's rendition of the events held the pair's rapt attention. Her words as well as her emotions were transmitted to them as easily as they spoke to each other..._

Selena didn't know quite what she had found, but she was able to comprehend that these glowing stones were a result of dragon magic, and I was not about to enlighten her any further. When she noticed me, she called me by name, 'Saphira.' I was certain that I was being tricked, and I attacked her mind in order to know the truth... I had to know the truth... and I did learn the truth; the truth was that Selena was Brom's love. Brom...

_The story paused here and almost felt like an embrace. There was such a feeling of astonishment-relief-joy flowing from Saphira's Heart... sharing with them the moment that she discovered that her beloved Brom was still alive. Both Murtagh and Thorn were nearly swept away by the powerful emotions._

At once I conspired with Selena to secure the castle and her son, while she escaped to give birth to Brom's first child. We had both hoped that she would return quickly, and then inform my rider of my existence, but of her I have heard nothing, and I must assume that she did not survive. Though this saddened me greatly, the subsequent disappearance of Morzan convinced me that Brom still lived, that he had succeeded in killing the devil-rider, and that in time he would eventually stumble upon me here...

_The sudden silence spoke volumes, as Murtagh wrapped his mind around the fact that Brom was no longer alive to fulfill Saphira's wishes. The emptiness drew on for nearly a minute as reality dawned on the dragon-Heart, and the sphere began to tingle with power. Both dragon and rider had been quite close when pure-anger-pain-despair erupted from the sapphire stone with lightening fierceness and strength..._

.

Since that moment, the mood of the dragon-Heart-stone had blackened. It now seemed to Thorn that elder-sapphire-companion only spoke in brief answers, or to make demands. The ruby scaled dragon lamented the loss of company, but he had recently learned to hold on to hope. This being the case, he spent his free hours sending the unresponsive female all of the images and sensations that he encountered.

He found it interesting to note that she greatly disapproved of his favorite pastime, lake fishing. Whenever he dove underwater she immediately withdrew deeper inside her shiny-blue-forever-stone. Whether this was to avoid the sensations Thorn sent to her, or else to distance herself from his happiness, he was unsure... Not that he really blamed her. If things had been reversed, he would been crushed beyond belief to discover that his rider had died without his knowledge.

The only thing that he truly resented was her initial treatment of Murtagh when she learned of Brom's demise...

.

_Murtagh tried to drop the sapphire stone, but it had almost become part of him. His hands bound to the surface by some unspoken emotion-fueled-magic._

_Thorn was beside himself as he watched... helpless... clawing the granite flooring up in frustration._

_The Eldunari breached Murtagh's mind as furiously as Galbatorix, savaging through his memories, desperate to discover what had befallen her chosen. She didn't even seem to hear the agonized cries of the young rider... but the sounds echoed in the ruby dragon's head and heart._

Stop! Please stop!..._ he roared, but to no avail. The mental assault continued for many minutes, till Saphira found what she was looking for. And then all was silent but for Murtagh's gasping breaths as he struggled to recover. He mentally assured his partner that he was undamaged, but his dragon could feel him shaking, and knew the extent that he had been affected... it was as if the black king had returned to torment them._

No Thorn. If it had been him, he would not have stopped until my name had been pried open.

_The ruby dragon grudgingly acknowledged that fact, but he couldn't help being wary afterwards, whenever his rider neared the unstable sphere. So later when Saphira demanded to accompany the pair as they hunted the magicians, Thorn had wanted to refuse, but Murtagh agreed almost instantly. The red dragon suspected that his rider was somehow trying to make amends to the blue one for the actions of his father. But it was only a guess; Murtagh's reason for this decision was kept stuffed inside that locked up vault. In the end, Thorn decided that as long as his rider was not further abused, that he would not argue the matter... Saphira could come._

.

Now as the dragon began to tire of flying, he angled into a descent over the mountains. They were far enough away that they would not be seen by the swarm of two-leg-travelers, and sighing Thorn searched the mountains and foothills for an adequate shelter. At first he had little luck, but then he found some sandstone hills stretching southward along the edge of the Spine range. Dozens of caves dappled the sides of the formations, and the dragon had just chosen one that suited his needs, when the rays of the setting sun struck a point on the top of one of the taller hills. The flash of reflected light nearly blinded him for a moment, and his inner eyelid snapped shut to filter the brightness.

Curiosity immediately took hold of the dragon and he altered his trajectory towards what appeared to be a very large diamond capped hill...

_Interesting..._

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><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 3-5-2012**

**I won't insult your intelligence by asking if you all know where they are headed... XDDD**

**I hope you like seeing a bit into the history of Brom's Saphira. And I am making these chapters a bit shorter than usual so as to go back and get to work on that cliffie with Murtagh. Don't worry about him too much... yet... )**

**I thank you all for your wonderful feedback so far. It challenges me to expand my original ideas.**

**Please R&Review.**


	9. Tentative Bonds

**A/Notes: **

**Because I have split chapter seven, making it into two chapters; Six and Seven. This will allow my chapter numbers to once again match the number of chapters posted. I can't really explain why, but this makes me very happy. {I must have a touch of OCD in me.} XD**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: <strong>**Tentative Bonds**

A dwarf... it was a dwarf... and speaking to him...

Murtagh's heart was in his throat, but it wasn't just beating; it was pounding, reverberating, bringing with it a curious combination of alertness, and anxiety, with a touch of vertigo. Images and memories surfaced involuntarily.

_No... not again _he thought as the past warred with reality, swarming around him, and temporarily overpowered his senses.

.

_Heat from the noon sun was almost unbearable, but he couldn't wipe the sweat from his brow with the blasted helm on. _

~Curse these Burning Plains!~

_Bloody battle stretched out below him, as he and Thorn sailed untouched in the sky. Enemies fought; empire against varden, rebels against soldiers, both craving for freedom, safety, and a decent life. Unfortunately each side was pitted against the other... on the whims of a madman. _

~And here I am, sworn to capture my own brother.~

_A wave of comfort washed over him; a gift from Thorn. But Murtagh could feel the dragon struggling with his own aversion to attacking another of his kind. Both of them were at odds with their fate._

_The rider of the red beast might have appeared calm as he circled over the front lines of the varden forces, but underneath the protective armor, behind the mask he was anything but that. In addition to capturing the blue pair, he had also sworn to discover the varden's new leader and destroy him. _

_Forced as he was to commit this act, his only satisfaction was in knowing that he had been successful in altering the target of his attack... Words of death were wrested from his lips, a red blast of magic exploded from his gauntleted palm, and the dwarven king Hrothgar along with a couple dozen of his best mages struggled for survival. Even as he snuffed out their existence, he felt their emotions, heard their cries, and endured their pain. Whether it was for their sake or his own, Murtagh reached deeper into 'the secret' for the power to complete this assassination, and as quickly and mercifully as possible it was over. Hrothgar was now dead, but at least _she_ was still alive._

.

The disorienting flash of memory had only lasted a few seconds, and Murtagh cleared his throat, stalling for the moment it took to regain his focus. Now was not the time to let his guard down. For there was no other race in all of Alagaesia that wished death to the son of Morzan more so than the dwarves did. And all the rider could do was pray that his disguise would hold up under close scrutiny.

The eyes of the dwarf scanned the hesitant 'trader' with a casual suspicion. Most certainly, as a dwarf he would be naturally cautious when dealing with another race. But even though he was open with his observations, he was not rude or overbearing.

Murtagh took all this in at a glance, and further stalled his response by taking a slow draught on his pipe. The effect had an immediate calming effect on the disguised rider, and by the time he had fully exhaled, he had gathered his composure.

"I'm sorry my friend, I didn't hear your approach."

The slow easy smile of the rider/trader's face reflected a genuine desire to offer hospitality, just as the ready access to his sword spoke of a certain willingness to defend himself and his property. The dwarf frowned as he firmed up his impression of the human before him.

"You humans..." he grumbled accusingly. "You speak so _loosely_ about your friendships,"

"It is true," the trader replied with a casual nod. "Especially in my line of work. I find business dealings are often improved by the illusion of friendship."

The dwarf's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the man's blatant honesty, and he broke into an unexpected baritone laugh. Even the trader added his chuckle to the mix, growing more sincere as the stout warrior sat the business end of his heavy weapon down, and pulled out a splendid pipe of his own. It was long and sturdy; made of a shiny ebony substance and etched with detailed carvings. The exquisite craftsmanship drew the trader's appreciative gaze. At this the dwarf laughed again, suspecting his thoughts.

"There is no amount of money that would tempt me to part from this heirloom. It was my father's father's, and I will pass it on to my own... But I _would_ be obliged for a bit of leaf, if you've any t'spare."

Without letting his gaze drift far from the dwarf, the trader reached into his cloak, and pulled out a leather pouch which he then held out to him.

Taking the pouch with a grunt of satisfaction, the stout warrior wasted no time in filling the pipe-bowl with a heathy pinch of tobacco, tamping it, and then coaxing it alight with a flame from the trader's fire.

"Urnok, of the Vrenshrrg," he intoned between precision puffing.

The trader nodded, and his gaze trailed to the horizon. He could tell that the dwarf was still wary, in spite of his easy demeanor. But he fully welcomed the contact; for any and all sources of information would be invaluable as he searched for the enemy, hidden among the travelers.

"EldMoi," he supplied to his new acquaintance.

"That name... it is of the elven tongue, isn't it?... How did ye come by it?"

Murtagh couldn't hide his surprise at the warrior's insight regarding his pseudo-name, but he quickly returned his eyes to the distant hills.

"It means 'changer'," he answered honestly, and he struggled for a moment on whether or not to say more. "I believe it was given in the hopes that the fate of my family would be... changed for the better." He didn't mention that his name had just been gifted him a week earlier, or that not only his name had been changed, but his face as well...

Suddenly, as if intrigued, the burly figure turned to observe the trader in earnest, peering from beneath bushy eyebrows.

"Did it?... Did it change your family wyrda?" he asked. For some reason it sounded strange; hearing the language of the elves spoken with a dwarvish accent.

Murtagh took an extra long draw on the pipe, noticing for the first time the excellent quality of the tobacco he was smoking.

"Perhaps..." he answered thoughtfully, "though most of my family is no longer alive to appreciate the fact."

The dwarf growled in agreement.

"That be true enough for all of us. Much was lost in the cursed war; our beloved Hrothgar being one of the greatest losses." Then the dwarf spat angrily... "Curse that bloody murderous rider."

"Curse the king that wielded him..." replied EldMoi in a more subdued tone.

But the dwarf didn't want to hear any of it, and the animosity that fell off him in disapproving waves made the rider step back.

"Do not attempt to minimize the traitor's hand in the deed. His actions denied our king his rightful honor; to fight and die in glorious combat... He just... dispatched him from afar, like the coward that he is... It was an empty and meaningless death. It wasn't supposed to be. And that kinsman-rider-Eragon has turned from his adopted clan, and let the murderer fly off unmolested and unchallenged."

The depth of the dwarf's feelings could not be doubted, and Murtagh looked to the horizon with a heavy heart, as he tried to bolster his own resolve. He really wasn't sure what he wanted to say, he only knew that this warrior deserved better than to believe his king's life had been wasted. His people deserved to know the full extent of their heroic race.

"Hrothgar's death might have been a tragedy, but it was far from empty."

The dwarf stared up at him agape, but rather than dispute, he let his sharp silence demand further explanation of the trader.

"Speak your words, '_changer_'..." he challenged with narrowed eyes. "In what way was the king's death _worthy_..."

Realizing that he had to be cautious as to how much he revealed, Murtagh considered his next words carefully. And it was several tokes later by the time he began his response.

"It is not generally known, but I will tell you what I have heard, and perhaps the knowing may ease the great sting of your loss...

"When the 'cursed' rider struck the heart of the dwarves at the 'Battle of the Burning Plains,' Hrothgar's death became the sacrifice that kept the rebellion from certain doom.

"He wasn't meant to die, but he did, and Ajihad's daughter was spared. For the red rider had been forced to swear on oath; to kill the leader of the Varden. Only by imagining the dwarven king to be the leader that he sought, was he able to stay his hand from Nasuada. The High Queen owes her very life to Hrothgar, and yet even now she is unaware..."

A deep silence fell between them, where the only sound that could be heard was a gentle breeze rustling in the foliage in the nearby trees. When Urnok did speak, his tone gave evidence of his amazement.

"What exactly are you saying..."

There were subtle implication as to how the trader knew such things, but for whatever reason, the truth of his words did not seem to be in doubt.

"The Dwarven King Hrothgar died a hero; protecting the daughter of his long-time-friend, protecting the future of his people, and protecting the hopes and dreams of the races of Alagaesia. Tragic, yes; but far from meaningless..."

Another drawn out silence gave the pair a few moments to tend to their smokes. It was not a tense moment, but Murtagh couldn't help worrying about the moment when his acquaintance decided to question where his knowledge had come from. He had not really prepared for that. All he had been thinking was to get the truth out in the open. He wanted the dwarves to know just why their king had been taken from them. And guilt was playing its part in this as well, for though his oaths had forced him to kill, it was indeed Murtagh who had targeted Hrothgar of his own free choice... to save her.

"You say you are a trader, but I think you have a bit of the storyteller in you as well."

The dwarf seemed to be steeping in the meaning of this new knowledge, almost as if he were re-watching the event through opened eyes.

"I'm not sure why, but I believe your words... all of them. And more than that, I want to believe them."

"I speak the truth," the trader said, repeating it in the ancient tongue. "Eka thorta du ilumëo."

Urnok was left speechless, though his expressive eyes shined clearly of his thoughts. He believed, but now he wanted to know how the trader possessed this knowledge.

"I was there, ye know," the deep dwarven voice said finally. "I was there at the battle. And had I been closer, I'd have died there beside my king, defending him to the end. So I have to ask you... how is it that you, of all people know of such things?"

This was it... the rider/trader had to say something, and it had to be honest. Releasing a line of smoke, he turned his gaze directly on his companion.

"I am not at liberty to divulge the source of my information, but of its accuracy, I am completely convinced."

The dwarf pursed his mouth unhappily, but he did not press the trader further, for which Murtagh was exceedingly grateful. Instead, he swung one heavy armored, dwarven arm over the shoulder of the disguised rider, and leaned towards him with a conspiratorial grin.

"As you have been so kind as to share your leaf with me, I feel it only proper to return the favor."

The look of surprise on the trader's face turned into agreeable acceptance upon hearing the warrior's enticing invitation.

"Come, and I will share with you some high quality dwarven mead..."

The trader smiled; and thus a tentative bond of friendship was born.

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><p><strong>ANotes: **

**Firstly, I want to thank all of my patient readers and reviewers for not writing me off. I don't know if I can deliver the quality of story that I envisioned, but I refuse to put off posting any longer while waiting for an inspired moment to end the chapter on. I thought it fell a bit flat, but I imagine it is better than nothing. You guys are the best, and the reason that I have not long ago given up. This story will continue with or without writer's block.**

**Secondly, Guess what?... I am not posting any of my Paolini-Logic-Flaws this time. For this post I will give the poor guy a break and acknowledge that I will likely have a few 'errors' in my story as well.**

**Enjoy everyone... and if you find you have the time, write me a review.**

**XD**


	10. DreamScape Healing

**A/Notes:**

**At first, my slowness was attributed to a couple of factors... A combination of one part indecision, and three parts laziness. Indecision regarding the order of the upcoming events which is truly giving me a case of discouragement. I know what I want to happen, but when I try to picture it in my head I lose my way...**

**Then about three weeks ago my family caught a really horrible flu-like illness. I have been very slow to recover to the point of wanting to write. But I guess this is that point, so... Time to press on. ;)**

****This chapter was much shorter than I would have liked. I owe you guys more for your patience, but when I tried to lengthen it, I felt it was only stealing from the meaning of the chapter. Perhaps I will include more of the memories in the form of additional one-shots. Anyways, that's my story.****

**I want to give credit to jman007 for "guilting me" off my tush, and compelling me into completing this chapter. Thanks man. XD**

**And I also give credit to ALL my reviewers for inspiring me to continue... You are the best, guys... :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: DreamScape Healing<strong>

The setting sun's fading light danced on the surface of the diamond capped hill. It was just disappearing in the distance, as the ruby dragon landed with a thud. Saphira knew the very moment that Thorn had realized his discovery. She had felt his shock and his desire to withdraw his mind from hers. This was strange, because for days now he had pestered her with all of the sights, sounds, textures, and thoughts he had experienced. All of this he did in an effort to draw her out of her self imposed silence, so why was he now pulling away?

The sapphire Heart clung to the dragon's presence, unwilling to release him until she knew what had caused his change. He blocked her, though not with much enthusiasm, and it took only moments before she pried her way back into his conscious mind and understood. The pair had inadvertently stumbled on the gravesite of her beloved. Stunned and desperate, she refused to allow Thorn to return her to her darkness. She fought him till he relented, and then drank in the sight of the reposed Brom through the ruby dragon's eyes. After another moment of hesitation, Thorn allowed her access to all his other senses too...

The wind blew chill. A nightbird sung a song in the distance. The scent of flowering tree wafted past.

And still her rider slept motionless beneath the crystal tomb, protected and perfect. He looked older than she remembered him, but then she had seen his form through Selena's eyes, and had come to know that he had aged.

_Oh my 'little superstitious boy'... why did you leave me again?_

The ache within her grew and grew, seeming to expand even beyond her spherical confines in a huge expanding emotional pulse that rolled larger and larger across the endless sunset-kissed sky...

.

_... a huge expanse of cloud rolled larger and larger across the endless sunset-kissed sky... and a flash of blue sped across the sky in an effort to catch its fading light..._

_It was a race for the sun as it dipped into the painted horizon... their favorite frivolous pastime. The boy had always loved to run when he was young; she had seen that from his generously shared memories. So when she had been strong enough to carry him into the air for the first time, he had joyfully compared her exhilarating speed to that of the fastest of winds. Snorting, she had proudly boasted that she would soon be strong and fast enough to catch the great glowing eye as it journeyed overhead. And so the tradition of their youthful game began._

.

The sky was growing darker, and Thorn reclined against the crystal tomb with his head settled next to the encased rider.

The sapphire Heart of the dragoness felt the melancholy sigh of the male. He had seen and felt the joy of the female's memory as if it were his own. For just as he was sharing his mind and senses with her, she was likewise with him. And she did not regret it.

There was even a slight element of revenge involved in showing Thorn all of the happiness and innocence he had been denied by his torturous upbringing. Revenge should be hers; for the ruby dragon's rider had been right there during Brom's death, and had done nothing to save him. Unforgivable.

.

_Through the eyes of the enemy's son, she watched as the young Eragon tended the failing beloved. She could see the emotions passing between them, and she felt the twin snag of jealousy. It coiled within her at the sight, combining her own envious ache with the hungry pang that Murtagh felt; so similar were the feelings that it was hard to separate the two. Saphira's pain stemmed from the realization that her beloved had passed into the void without even knowing of her existence. But she also experienced the son of Morzan's aching lament that he had no one in the world that cared for him so. Tornac had been lost to him, and now Eragon would soon feel the loss of his mentor. _

_A sliver of compassion for the boy pierced a hole in Murtagh's envy, and he grasped at it. It was by far a nobler emotion to choose. And it was that moment when the elder boy decided he wanted to do whatever he could to see the young, floundering rider and his dragon find their way to safety... well, to as safe a place as could be found in Alagaesia. _

.

The vision winked out, leaving the bereft Eldunari to ponder anew the cause of her heart breaking separation. It had been the ra'zac, not Morzansson, who struck Brom down with the poisoned blade, but if the boy had only acted more swiftly, or with more accuracy, the black deed might have been avoided. Still, she had to admit that at the time, Murtagh's intentions had been fairly admirable... Perhaps the enemy's son wasn't _completely_ useless. But in the end, her beloved had been allowed to die, and so in her eyes, the boy had much to answer for. And she planned to see to it that he paid for his sins.

So why was she relishing vengeance on the ruby hatchling? What had he done to her? Nothing. He was completely innocent, and here she was taking delight in avenging herself on him. With genuine contrition, Saphira apologized.

_I am sorry Airithorn. You deserve better than to be tormented by a grieving dragon Heart._

_Saphira of Brom... I do understand why you hurt,_ replied the male dragon with a sigh. _But punishing my rider will not change anything. He was just a boy. And I will not continue mind-sharing with you, if you insist on pursuing his punishment._

A long pause seemed to mark a comfortable understanding between them.

_I shall try to make it up to you,_ Saphira assured her ruby scaled friend. And while the stars were twinkling into existence on the inky night sky, the living gem gave the matter some consideration.

_Would you like to see some more?_ she asked him finally.

Thorn's surprise and gratitude shined at the unexpected offer, and he sent his mental affirmation. The rest of the night was filled with a generous exchange of images and sensation. Saphira enjoyed gazing through ruby eyes upon her sleeping partner; and in return, she called to mind many of the wonderful adventures that she and her rider had experienced, sharing them with the young dragon freely.

And somewhere during the night a mutual healing took place between them; a healing that neither cared to question or examine. They both felt its effects, and that was wonder enough.

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><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 5-26-2012**

**Another one of Paolini's Logic Flaws... {Just don't believe it.}**

**I wish people would stop inferring that "immortality" is the obstacle between Murtagh and Nasuada. I agree, there _are_ obstacles; the reactions of her followers, the elves, and the dwarves. But immortality and mortality are hardly an impediment. Why?... Cause...**

**Consider this... In every relationship there is the very real chance that one of the two involved will precede the other in death? This is a normal possibility, and EVERYONE who loves another faces this risk. Then there is the image of one party growing older {which is certain to happen anyways.} Whether Murtagh ages with her, or whether he retains his youth, he will still have to watch his love go through the seasons of life. Mortality or immortality will make no difference in this matter... So, what is the problem?**

**The rest of us in the world will all endure these same things. If we are lucky to be blessed with a long life, then we must embrace the seasons with open arms. All of us share this pattern of life, and we will see our partner age throughout it... If this fact doesn't figure as an obstacle to the mere human embracing his love, then why would it deter a strong courageous rider {or elf, or any other long living species.}**

**This is one of Paolini's most ridiculous presumption, and I can't stand by idly and silent in its presence. Though I must admit that when I consider that the character {Eragon} who instigated such thoughts was a sixteen year old boy, it makes the mistaken perception a bit more tolerable. Additionally, the boy had been a mere human up to that point, and was only newly faced with the knowledge of his own immortality. Perhaps he was simply too immature to deal with it properly, {not to mention the youth and inexperience of the author writing the book.}**

**Having said all of this... I will let things lay. But I heartily encourage all of you to challenge the precepts and notions presented around you, and see for yourself what is truth, and what is distorted illusion...**

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><p><strong>Review if you can think of anything you'd like to say.<strong>


	11. The Love of Battle

**A/Notes: Posted 12-11-12 **

**{****_Nooooo, I should have waited till tomorrow to post this and it would have been_ 12-12-12.}**

**Well, here I am again, shamefaced and penitent... I haven't added a chapter to this story in over six months. Once again my excuse was me fighting with my pen. I used to just sit down and the words would flow. But that was when I was allowing it to do anything it wanted. Now, whenever I try to be in charge, the flow of ideas, words, and fun just evaporates. -_- Not nice.**

**So... as I am placing my pen to the paper now, I swear to you that I have no idea what will come out, only that I will willingly be the servant to the pen.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: The Love of Battle<strong>

Something wasn't right... But in his semi-conscious state he couldn't quite put a name to it. His mouth was dry as he groaned, but there was no sound. And the fuzziness in his waking mind almost convinced him he was still dreaming. If it weren't for the accompanying nausea, he might have just turned over and pulled up the cover... the cover...

He blinked, clearing his vision, and noticed the dwarven runes carefully sewn into the quilt. That was when he became mentally alert, clearly recalling the events of the night before; the good natured taunting, the elaborate stories, the ardent challenges, and the abundant drinking... Well, he recalled most of it clearly; as clearly as he was able through the current mead induced pounding in his head.

Taking a deep breath of frosty air roused the rider's body to readiness, though he remained in the sleeping position. He knew that something wasn't right; there were no sounds at all. Utter silence filled the camp, and the unnaturalness of the event raised the hair on his neck with dread; no birds, no crickets, no wind, no horses, no dwarven snores...

Murtagh knew it had to be a silencing spell. Nothing else could account for the complete lack of noise. Remaining as still as possible, he stretched his foot over to nudge Urnok in the side. A finger to his lips and a look of seriousness, told the groggy dwarf all he needed to know, for he was quick to realize that things were amiss. Of course it was unnecessary to caution against sound while the spell was active, but it was the first signal that occurred to him.

A quick mental probe by the disguised rider revealed some rather disturbing facts; the first being the source of the silencing spell. It was originating from somewhere within the traveling caravan. The magicians... Murtagh was almost instantly certain of this. The question was, what was the purpose of casting such a spell... and who all was affected. While Murtagh was pondering this thought, his probing soon made him aware of a second fact. There was a group of nearly fifty renegade imperial soldiers moving quickly in their direction and they were nearly upon them.

Murtagh tried to swear, and was surprised once again when no sound could be heard. That caused him an additional scowl, for it meant that he could not work a counter-spell, nor could he speak the 'Name'.

-_The rider had pretty much promised himself not to ever again use 'the Name' again. But he knew there would be exceptions to his resolve. To protect his dragon, or to save Nasuada; for such emergencies he might be tempted to use it._-

But now, without speech, he was prevented from using magic of any kind.

Urnok also realized the situation, and so they silently nudged the other dwarves awake, even as they readied their weapons. Each dwarf in turn woke the fellow on the other side of him, and in no time at all the entire camp had come to their feet.

Murtagh couldn't help but be amazed at the speed with which the dwarves became battle ready. It was mere seconds, as he watched them rise and shake off the previous nights festivities. Some of them had been quite intoxicated, but now, looking at their fiercely alert eyes, he would never had suspected.

Being the tallest of the group, it was easy for Murtagh to use simple gestures to point out the approximate location of the approaching enemy. And only moments later the attacking party emerged from the dark and foggy edges of the campsite.

They were obviously human, and likely a lost garrison of the late king's army. The purpose of the attack was hard to figure, but Murtagh couldn't shake the suspicion that both their arrival and the magician's silencing spell were certainly more than coincidence.

EldMoi, or rather Mutagh, took a deep and cleansing breath. There was a thrill that coursed through him as the attacking figures rushed into the dwarven camp with the intention of a quick and silent ambush. Surprise flashed on their faces as they discovered that their quarry was not only awake, but prepared to fight. A content and satisfied sneer adorned the disguised face of the rider. He hadn't felt this alive since... since when?... But he had little time to dwell on such questions as his sword began slicing down the enemy with methodical ease... and battle sang in his blood...

That was all the dwarves needed to see. They threw back their heads in a soundless battle cry as they joined in the clash, and the rider marveled at the surge of power that washed over him at their combined 'silent' roar. Even with the silencing spell, there was something awe inspiring about the event.

As one, the fearless band of bearded warriors charged against their startled attackers, and the disguised rider fought right along with them. Deep in Murtagh's subconscious he felt an inexplicable déjà vu to his current predicament. He wasn't sure how or why, but there was a rightness to his being here and fighting with these brave warriors, a satisfaction to opposing the king's soldiers, and a gratification at seeing the enemy's fear.

The panic that shone in the enemy's eyes caused Murtagh to wonder whether these soldiers were under oath to complete the attack; for it clearly looked as if they would have preferred to have fled, now that the advantage of surprise was no longer theirs. And yet they did not flee. They were trapped in this fight; a fight they did not desire...

And that was when it occurred to Murtagh just what this feeling was that he was experiencing. He had not felt this surging of life inside him since the battle under Farthen Dur where he had also fought beside dwarves. That had been the last time he had fought freely, and an enemy of his own choosing. That has been the last time that his blood lust hadn't tasted of his own bile, tainted by the irony of being used against his brother. Once more he was free, and suddenly battle was sweet again. A small smile found its place on his lips, and he would have uttered a cry to rival the dwarves, but the spell would not allow for sound of any kind.

And truly it was strange; fighting without the aid of sound. There was no clang as swords were deflected, no cries when men were stabbed, no thuds as bodies fell, and no way to call for help if it was needed.

Murtagh caught sight of Urnok battling two of the soldiers, and he moved next to him to even the odds. The dwarf threw him a meaningful grin, and trusting his new acquaintance to cover his back, he turned his full focus on vanquishing the soldier before him. This strategy worked so well that other dwarves noticed and started to emulate the pair, leading to a very successful resolution to the skirmish.

And the battle was over in just a few minutes, almost as quickly as it started. Somewhere during the brief but fierce combat, the sky had gone from the darkest night to a dim predawn, revealing the bodies of the enemy soldiers strewn all about the encampment. They had all been killed, for none had even attempted to run. And though there were a number of injuries to the dwarves, not one death was counted among them.

Suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, the sound of heavy breathing could be heard... and stumbling feet... and weapons being reclaimed and cleaned... and dwarven victory cries. Their company included a handful of healers, and now that the silencing spell had been removed, these dwarves began to move through the grounds treating the wounded.

Shouts could also be heard coming from the other sections of the caravan, for a good number of them were running up to the dwarven camp to assist. Judging by their faces, they were astounded to see the bloody bodies of the fallen enemy. It seemed that none of the other groups had been attacked.

Murtagh stood back leaving the dwarves to explain what had happened. He could add very little without exposing his own knowledge of magic, and that might endanger the mission or expose his identity. So he listened to the exchange from a distance, and reveled in the surge of power still flowing through his blood.

Unexpectedly a solid hand slapped him on the back, followed by a dwarvish laugh.

"So EldMoi, you be a trader, a storyteller, and a warrior too," Urnok accused teasingly. "You have certainly been well named, changer... If only you were able to hold your drink, you might make a very fine dwarf."

"Ha!" Murtagh responded in defense of his limitations. "I held enough drink considering my weight. You must have twice my girth..."

"And you twice my height," growled the dwarf right back. And they both laughed together, but it was short-lived, and a seriousness seemed to swallow up the moment.

"The attack targeted the dwarves."

"It was well planned, and might have worked but for you people's fast reactions."

"And you alerting us... But none of the dead appear to be magicians, so where did they go?"

The gaze of the changer met and held that of the dwarf, and it became clear that there was more to this attack than anyone realized.

"What I say now must not go beyond you and me. I tell you this so that you may urge your comrades to be cautious. Though I am still uncertain of the purpose of the attack, I do know that the magicians who cast the silencing spell are travelers among this caravan. I also know that they are part of a plot against the new queen and the new peace... I have been following them. And if they have discovered my purposes, it is possible that I was the target of the attack."

The dwarf looked amazed at this unexpected turn, and then perplexed.

"But why send fifty men after just one?... and why wait until you are camped in the middle of a group of dwarven warriors to attack? It would have been easier to destroy you back at your own camp, especially with you on the far edge of things."

"True... That thought has puzzled me as well. But why would they attack _retreating_ troops? You would think that they would welcome the diminishing of the queen's support..."

EldMoi's words hit him even as they fell from his lips, and the dwarf caught on just as fast.

"Aye... a lost garrison of dwarves _would_ spark suspicion between the races. And even more support for her cause would be lost."

"That has to be it," the changer nodded agreement. "It's the only thing that makes sense. But that means that your group must remain very wary."

"Aye, and it means that I'll be helping you with your mission."

Murtagh's surprise shined through his disguise. He hadn't expected this, but once he gave the thought a moment to sink in, it seemed to be a satisfactory development. He couldn't help smiling as nodded in acceptance of the offer. As if on queue, the sound of the mustering horn resonated in the air. It was the greeting of a new day, and a call to rouse the rest of the camp -those who were not already up- to rise, and eat, and ready to break camp.

"We can talk more at the midday meal," the changer suggested, indicating the conversation was now at a close.

"Aye," the dwarf added. "You bring the leaf, and I'll bring the ale."

And EldMoi grinned at his friend's suggestion, but as the other turned to join his brothers in the restoration of their campsite, the smile faded. What would the good hearted dwarf think if he knew who it was he was offering his aid and ale to. What would he think about EldMoi's deception?

How was the rider ever going to make true friends if he had to hide his identity in order to do so? And then once befriended, how could he bear to continue the deception? A wave of despair washed over him, and he wrestled it into that dark place locked within. But this time there was a difference. This time, even though he did not have the answer to his dilemma, he felt sure that somewhere an answer did indeed exist, if only he could find it...

'_One step at a time,_' he told himself firmly. '_First see to the queen's safety, and then worry about the conundrums of life and the acquisitions of friends._'

Now that all the danger had passed, and his desire for battle was dwindling, Murtagh turned quietly, and headed back to his lonely campsite. He needed time and space to get used to the new feelings of elation that were still coursing through his veins. He had almost forgotten how good it could feel, how much he loved to battle, and he was determined to relish every moment of it. The rider planned to share it all with his dragon.

Many were the times that the dragon had enthusiastically burst into his thoughts to show him some new aerobatic capability, or the outcome of an exciting hunt. Thorn loved to share his experiences with his rider, and now Murtagh had something worthy of sharing with him; the love of battle.

The rider smiled at the thought, as he arrived at his camp and began to change out of his blood and dirt covered clothing. But he didn't get far. Suddenly he became aware of someone trying to scry him...

* * *

><p><strong>ANotes: Posted 12-11-12**

**Oh I have to say that I have not quite done as I intended... I said I would give my writing equal attention as the RP I am involved with. I have not succeeded, but I am getting better. XD**

**Many many many thanks to all my reviewers. And to anyone who has looked at my profile and seen my top Favorite Stories, you might want to note that there have been a couple additions to the list. Very good stuff, so feel free to check them out and enjoy.**

**I thank you for reading. And if you like what you have read, I'd love to hear from you... And if you don't like what you've read, I'd still love to hear from you... Ah heck! Just review and I'll be happy. XDD**


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